


Courting Death

by Dragonmad



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Long, M/M, Post Movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-05-15
Updated: 2011-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-26 21:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 26,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonmad/pseuds/Dragonmad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Ten years is a long time…</p><p>Long fic is loooong. Set after AWE but before credit cut scene, which makes this AU.<br/>Features children. Slash - J/W. Angst angst baby, h/c and CHARACTER DEATH. It doesn’t happen for a while, but it will<br/>! So if you’re not able to deal with the possibility of such, please leave now instead of persecuting me later. Thank you.</p><p>Takes places some years after the events of AWE</p><p>This story was written long before PotC4. There will be similar story lines, but nothing from PotC4 will appear here.  </p><p>Originally posted at Livejournal community Jackwill. Betaed by the amazing [info]ainsoph15 . Any other errors are mine!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Ahoy, mateys.
> 
> It's been way too long.
> 
> This is something I've been tinkering on since 2009. I had wanted to get this out before Pirates 4 came into cinemas, but I've failed. (Though I did make it before the Aussie release date! That's got to count for something, right? ;D)
> 
> This story is a WiP, BUT I've got over 14 chapters already written so far, so I'll be publishing a new update every week. Although I'll be uploading chapter 1 shortly.
> 
> Well, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> A/N: I don’t buy the “quick fix” ending of AWE. There is no simple “cure” for Will’s immortality, no matter how much hordes of fans & Disney might wish it were so. The writers may have caved and made the concession that Will is freed from his tenure as CotFD, but I reject it and refuse to acknowledge it as canon. The Dutchman must always have a captain, and you have to stab the heart to become the captain. Ergo, how can Will just suddenly become human again? It’s a clumsy, quick fix and it annoys the hell out of me. That's my personal opinion. You're each entitled to your own, but that is the reason for this fic – which doesn’t actually fit with what I believe would happen. It is, however, an avenue for Turrow. ;D

 

  


  


~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

With trembling fingers Captain Jack Sparrow caresses the embossed case in greeting before stealthily extracting the Key from a hidden pocket. 

Moistening his lips in anticipation, he carefully inserts the Key, turning it gently. With a hissing crunch the lock springs open. Jack winces at the loud sound, furtively looking around to see if anyone has noticed.  
When the dark room remains silent, he lets out a small breath of relief; one he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. 

Carefully fitting his hands around the lid he opens the chest, eyes lighting with success and dimming moments later with some untold emotion. 

“Oh mate, you’re in a sorry state.”  


Will’s heart lay forlornly in a corner of the metal box, beating in a lethargic, laboured way. 

Jack swallows with difficulty. “Don’t ye worry now, lad. Ole Jack’s here to take proper care of ye!” He reaches forward, ready to free his prize when the quiet “snick” of a pistol freezes him in place.  


With another, slightly more miffed swallow –if such a thing is possible, - Jack glances out the corner of his eye, but cannot see his assailant. “Now really, Lizzie luv, I don’t think ye wan’ to be doin’ that...”  

The muzzle of the gun retreats and there is a shocked pause before a surprised and somewhat exasperated “Jack?!” fills the air.  


Jack turns and grins a hello. 

Elizabeth looks as youthful as she had when Jack first met her. Well, almost. A few lines around her eyes and on her brow mark the passage of years since then, but apart from that she looks astonishingly the same. Jack frowns at her for a second, positive she must be doing _something_ to prevent the slow march of time. Elizabeth, for her part, is too busy staring at the man before her in shock to realise this.  


“What are you doing here?” she asks, and her voice holds a strange strain to it. 

Before Jack can prevaricate, Elizabeth launches herself at the pirate and wraps him in a fierce hug.  


More than slightly suspicious, Jack awkwardly pats her on the back, thanking whatever fates have decided to grant him continual luck, and is somewhat grateful that he wasn’t shot first. 

“Wait…”  


Jack winces and leans back.

A fierce expression is slowly morphing Elizabeth’s attractive face, and her hands move to her hips in a formidable feminine display of accusation.  


“Why are you here Jack?” She frowns at him suspiciously, before remembering what she’d caught him doing. “And just what were you doing opening Will’s chest? How did you even get the key?!” The last is said in an alarmed shriek, and the gun makes a fast reappearance. 

Jack rolls his eyes dramatically, using two fingers to gently point the barrel away from his chest. “I’m rescuin’ it, o’ course.” He blinks and amends, “him.”  


Elizabeth scowls, and the pistol doesn’t retreat. “Rescuing?” She scoffs, “And how is he in need of _rescuing_?” 

Jack quirks an expressive brow, “Do ye really need to ask?”  


Despite the seemingly innocuous statement, Elizabeth’s lips thin. Jack feels a slight thrill as his hitherto speculated theory obviously hits home. 

Elizabeth manages to master herself quickly, raising her head and maintaining eye contact defiantly. “I fail to see how it concerns you, _captain._ ”  


It’s meant to be an insult, but the defensive anger in the tone makes it miss its true mark. Jack bares his teeth in a fierce parody of a smile. “Oh, but it does, _my king._ After all, you’ve lost your right to him.” 

“My right?!”  


Jack winces. Really, women could get so _shrill_ when they were angry. 

An angry retort has formed and is ready to be divulged with acidic intensity when a sound by the doorway catches the attention of both adults.  


Seizing  his chance while Elizabeth is distracted, Jack spins, slamming the chest shut. Grabbing it under an arm, key and all, he skilfully dives out the still open window. 

Rolling with a rather hard thud – and really, he was getting much too old for this kind of thing – he gets to his feet and _runs_ for all he’s worth.  


Several shots stir the dust at his heels as Elizabeth curses him soundly.

~*~*~  


tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Please see Prologue for all warnings. Some chapters will have their own chapter warnings and ratings, so please take heed!
> 
> Summary: Ten years is a long time…
> 
> Beta'ed by the amazing [info]ainsoph15 . Any other errors are mine!
> 
> A/N: Originally posted to Jackwill community on Livejournal.

~*~*~

 

William had been having a hard time sleeping.

He’d tossed and turned, counted sheep and done all he could to try and fall asleep, – he’d even tried counting the whorls in the wood on the ceiling! – and still sleep eluded him. 

So it was only natural, really, that sometime close to dawn, when he’d heard the creak of a window being opened, curiosity won out.

Padding barefoot out of his room, he made his way down the darkened corridor of his home. As he came up to the doorway of the quiet sitting room, he peeked around the corner to see a shadowy figure fall clumsily through the window. The figure cursed, straightened and brushed himself off, picking up a battered hat that had fallen onto the floor. As he reached for it, his sleeve rolled up and there, on that outstretched arm, was the clear marking of a ‘P’.

William gave a quiet gasp of shock and pulled back behind the doorway, his pulse racing.

What was a _pirate_ doing here?!

Crouching down, he looked once more in a mixture of fear and excitement. He’d always wanted to meet a pirate! He sat as quietly as he could and waited to see what the man would do. He wasn’t worried. They didn’t have anything of real value a pirate would want. Also, the man seemed to be alone, which was odd really, ‘cause you don’t really think of pirates as being solitary people. Where were the rest of them? 

William frowned as the man pulled out his father’s chest. Not that it was of any real value, but his mother always spoke of it as if it was.

He didn’t actually know what was in it; it could very well hold valuables, couldn’t it?  Maybe it _was_ valuable. But his mother had never really hidden it, and surely if it was worth something, they’d have sold it a long time ago. It was all so confusing!

Which just made William all the more desperate to know about what was _inside_ the darn thing.

And so he sat, torn between his mother’s orders to stop _anyone_ from touching it, and his own curiosity. For years it had been a mystery, and now here was the chance to finally solve it. He knew it wasn’t empty, because he’d tried shaking it once. The only thing he’d been able to discern was a slightly wet _‘thump’_ sound. He’d shaken it a second time to try and help him guess what his father could have left that was so _important_ , but all the second shake had produced was an angry reaction from his mother when she’d caught him. So he’d given up and categorised the mystery as just another ‘thing that William wasn’t allowed to know’.  

But now, William’s eyes widened in surprise and excitement as this man, who had come out of nowhere, produced a key from a hidden pocket. The man reverently placed the key in the lock, and twisted carefully. With a hiss and a heavy clunk, the lock gave way.

William’s throat was dry from anticipation, but an idle part of his mind couldn’t help but ponder who this person – no, not a person, a _pirate_! - was that he’d have a key to his father’s chest? Had his father’s ship been attacked by pirates?! Was that how this man had come by the key?

But the man didn’t look like your common thief, and he definitely didn’t act like one. Why hang around, and open it here, why not just take the chest and run? Never mind that a normal thief wouldn’t bother treating a worthless chest with such admiration.

The faint creak of a floorboard behind him was the only warning of his mother’s presence, and he quickly scurried behind the large drawers just inside the doorway and pressed himself as far as he could into the wall. His mother appeared not a moment later, dressed in her night things and with a brace of pistols strapped to her sides. She walked barefooted and with quiet determination down the corridor towards the room. 

His mother moved past him without stopping, and he breathed a small sigh of relief that he hadn’t been spotted. She moved silently into the room, towards the stranger who had opened the chest and was peering inside. William could see from his spot in the dim corner between wall and drawers that the man was talking, but what exactly he was saying was lost to the pounding of William’s own excited heartbeat.  

Raising the barrel of a pistol, his mother cocked the gun and aimed it squarely at the back of the man’s head. The noise seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet and everyone seemed to freeze at the sound. The man lifted his hands slowly up and out of the chest, and held them high, in plain sight.

“Now really, Lizzie luv, I don’t think ye wan’ to be doin’ that...”

 _What?_

His mother took a startled step back, the gun falling slowly to her side, as if it was unbearably heavy.

“Jack?”

The man, apparently named Jack, turns and grins at her.

“What are you doing here?” his mother asks, and it’s a very good question, he thinks, considering its quite late, and it’s not really the proper time for a social call. Never mind the man came through the window!

Suddenly, his mother launches herself at the man and hugs him tightly, and a tension William was unaware he was holding is suddenly gone. He breathes a bit easier for it. Obviously the man isn’t dangerous if his mother knows him!

“Wait…”

William freezes, well aware of what that tone of voice means. The man does too, ‘cause he has also frozen.

“Why are you here Jack? And just what were you doing opening Will’s chest? How did you even get the key?!” the last is said in an alarmed voice, and she raises the gun once more.

The man rolled his eyes, batting the barrel of the pistol to the side. His mother angrily brings it back around, pointing at the man’s chest. “I’m rescuin’ it, o’ course… him.”

William frowned. His father is in need of rescuing?

His mother is just as dubious, the pistol still firmly pointed at the man. “Rescuing?” She scoffed, “And how is he in need of _rescuing_?”

The man – Jack, William reminds himself – quirks an expressive brow, “Do ye really need to ask?”

Will is utterly confused.

“I fail to see how it concerns you, _captain._ ”

Captain? The man is a Captain? And not just any kind of Captain, a _pirate_ too!!!  Zounds!   

The man grins in a disturbing way.  “Oh but it does, _my king._ After all, you’ve lost your right to him.”

William is completely lost, but he has little time to consider that sentence before his mother grew angry.

“My right?!”

The Captain flinched, and William notes that he obviously knows he’s in trouble. His mother only uses that voice when she’s _really_ angry.

Leaning forward to try and get a better view of the proceedings turns out to be a _big_ mistake, as the drawers scraped loudly along the floor.

His mother whipped around, her gaze finding him unerringly and her expression stern. Will tries to give her an apologetic look but the sound of the chest snapping closed distracts them both, and  he watches as the dark haired pirate snatches the metal box from the floor and dives out the open window.

His mother cursed loudly. Will is thoroughly impressed. – and she reprimands _him_ for vulgar language! – shooting desperately out of the window at the fleeing figure.

Running back, she grabs her coat from its spot near the door.

“Stay here!” And with that, she disappears after the man.

William is left standing in the suddenly oppressive silence of the house, and feels the shock slowly course through him.

He’s not quite sure what all that was about really, but if one thing is for sure, he’s definitely going to find out!

With only a minute hesitation, Will grabs his hat and coat from the remaining hook, opens the door, and runs out into the grey half-light of morning.

 

 

~*~

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, now things start to get a bit more interesting! Stay tuned till next week. (Also I hope I haven't put too many people off with kid!fic. - frankly I can't even believe I'm writing kid!fic!!! Oh well, guess I had to pop that cherry at some point. ;P )


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack meets William the younger, and a few things are explained...

 

 

“Nice hat.”

William whips around, heart beating loudly with fright, and glares at the man lounging indolently underneath a palm tree. The battered tri-corn hat from before is tipped over his face, shielding him from the early morning rays, and his feet are resting on his father’s chest like a footstool.

For some unknown reason, his glare makes the pirate smile and he tips his hat back to rest on top of his head properly.

“Well, one thing's for sure then…”

“And what’s that?”

“You're definitely Will’s boy.”

William blinks, not sure what he was expecting, but certainly not that. He stares at the man, who sits up, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on the chest in front of him. He gestures with a lazy ring-filled hand.

“You look a bit like him, ye know. ‘Magine that’ll get stronger when yer a bit older yet.”

William finally manages to find his voice and before he can stop himself, he’s asking with wide-eyed exuberance,  “You know my father?”

The pirate grins and gives him a lazy nod.

Suspicious, William crosses his arms and levels another glare at the man, taking a careful distancing step back. “That’s not possible.”

“Isn’t it now?”

“No, it isn’t. My father’s a merchant sailor. The only reason someone like you would know him is if… if…” The boy pales suddenly. “Did you kill him?”

Jack’s face has gone through a plethora of emotions whilst listening to  him, before finally settling into a bizarre mixture of anger and regret. “Not in the manner ye mean.”

William swallows unsteadily, looking down at his feet and nodding. “ He’s dead then.”

“No! Yes! No, I mean…” Jack throws his hands up in exasperation before folding his arms and drumming his fingers on the metal chest. “It’s all rather complicated.”

William frowns. “How can it be? Is he or isn’t he?”

Jack pinches his nose and lets out a slow unsteady breath. “She hasn’t told ye anything has she?”

“Who hasn’t?”

It’s answer enough, apparently. “Right, then.” Jack pats the ground in front of him invitingly. “Sit down, lad; we’ve a lot to get through.”

William looks at him, considering the proposal for a second, before making up his mind. “Look, sir. I don’t know what you’re doing here or what you want exactly, but could you please give me back the chest?” He gestures at the item just to make it clear. “It’s my dad’s, and it’s the only thing mum and I have of his, you see…”

Jack is looking at him intently from underneath the wide brim of his hat, his eyes glittering darkly, and William shuffles nervously on the spot.

“We haven’t been properly introduced, yet, have we?”  Jack says, leaning back against the palm tree's solid trunk once more. He grins, sharp and quick. “I…am Captain Jack Sparrow.”

William blinks. “ Aye,… but can I have the chest back now?”

The man gapes at him rather comically; his shoulders drooped in disappointment, before snapping his mouth shut. “You really don’t know who I am, then?”

William shrugs. “A pirate?”  

The man scoffs and waves his hand as if this is neither here nor there, which Will finds strange, 'cause it’s a rather important point in his view of things.

“Not just any pirate!”

William just looks at him patiently, hoping the man will finally give him the chest.

With a defeated sigh, Jack eyes the young boy in front of him. “Let me guess…” he drawls, “Your name is William.”

Will blinks in shock. “How did you –“

 Jack waves his hand with a heavy sigh. “A lil’ more imagination would’ve been much appreciated, thank you Lizzie.”

William is starting to get uncomfortable. Not only  has he not got the chest back, but he’s also starting to question the sanity of the man in front of him, who seems to be in the habit of talking to himself.

As if he’s heard his internal musings, the pirate looks up at him and Will takes a stumbling step back.

“Well then, William –“ Jack winces and shakes his head. “No. That just won’t do. Would ye mind terribly if I called ye Billy?”

Will frowns. “I  suppose…”

“Excellent! Now, Billy, haven’t you ever wondered what’s in this here chest?”

 

~*~*~*~

Billy’s attention is completely ensnared, and Jack gives himself a congratulatory pat on his mental back.

“Well, yes. But mum just says that it’s something important that we have to keep safe for him.”

“Ah” Jack nods sagely, “quite true. But not _quite_ the whole truth.”

Without  consciously acknowledging the movement, Billy finds himself seated in front of the man, listening intently.

“Listen close now young Billy, cause it seems someone’s been remiss in teaching ye some important things.” The man’s eyes glitter and he points a hand theatrically at the boy. “Has she not told you - your mother I mean - has she not told you…” 

Billy waits expectantly, leaning forward in his eagerness.

“About who your da’ is? About who _you_ are?”

“Well, yes… He’s a merchant sailor, as I –“

“No.”

Billy blinks at the curt force behind that one word.

“No. He isn’t. Though I’m sure that some days he wishes he were.” Jack gives the boy a quick, amused grin, before sobering once more.  “Nay, lad. Ye think if it were something so simple, that he wouldn’t have come to see ye in all this time?”

Billy _had_ often wondered about that. But his mother always got so upset when he'd asked about his father that he’d quickly learned to just accept the idea that his father didn’t want anything to do with them … even though the idea _hurt_.

Seeing the spark of hope in the boy’s eye, Jack takes a gambit, pretending to inspect his nails whilst he hums a certain song.

“I know that song!”

Jack grins.

“Hm? Oh. I suppose you would. Must admit I’m not too surprised. Your mum always did love that song. Though I heard that she sang it at the most inappropriate time at one point. Almost got half the crew clapped in irons.”

Jack doesn’t think it’s possible for the boy’s eyes to get any larger than they were, but apparently he was mistaken.

“What are you trying to say?”

Jack just quirks an encouraging eyebrow at the boy, waiting for him to figure it out.

“Are you saying, that my mother… that she…” he leans close as if afraid to say the next bit too loudly. Jack humours him, even glancing furtively from side to side before leaning close. “…is a pirate?”

Another grin split’s Jack face, the gold capping on his teeth flashing brilliantly. “Aye, and not just any pirate either!” He leans closer and whispers to his attentive audience, “she’s the pirate _king_!”

Billy frowns and leans back. Spell broken. “King? But she’s a girl!”

Jack shrugs, disappointed. “Technicalities.”

Billy’s head is spinning with questions, the recently revealed answer slowly filtering through his memories and fitting neatly into the spots that had previously never made much sense.

“Wait… does that mean. My father…. Is he a pirate too?”

Jack’s smirk is decidedly self-satisfied.

“Ahhhh…”  He nods, stroking his trimmed moustache mysteriously. “He’s a lot more than that, mate.” He leans in and beckons with his finger for the boy to do the same.

“Ye see, Billy, your dad just happens to be –“

“WILLIAM!”

Both heads snap around and both let out a sigh of exasperation, though for different reasons.

Elizabeth’s face is stormy as she races towards them, coat flying out behind her. Grabbing Billy by the shoulder, she roughly drags him away, glancing at him disapprovingly. “I thought I told you to stay inside!”

William ducks his head in the hopes of evading a sterner rebuke, whilst his eyes slide to the side to peek out from under his hat at the pirate before them.

Jack claps his hands together theatrically. “Ah, there ye go then! Now that the two of you are lovingly reunited, I’ll just be going….”

“You’ll be going nowhere Jack Sparrow! How dare you do this! Now give me back Will’s chest!”

“Chest, what chest?” Jack makes a big show of standing up and patting himself down, looking around for the elusive object.

Billy looks at him in surprise before also looking around for the chest, which had been right in front of him a minute ago, and was now nowhere to be seen.

Jack notices, and gives him a surreptitious wink.

His mother’s glare just deepens and the man holds up his hands in surrender.

“Ye have nothing to fear about your claim on dear William. I’m just borrowing it for a time.”

Elizabeth snorts in disbelief. “I knew you’d go to desperate lengths to attain immortality Jack, but this…”

A muscle twitches in Jack’s face and he straightens to his full height. “How dare you.” He hisses, dark eyes flashing with anger. “If I had wanted that position, I’d hardly have done what I did just to go to the trouble of stealing the chest from you at a later date, don’t you think? I could have let him _die_ , but I didn’t!”

Elizabeth is shaking with anger, and the words are out before she has time to filter them. “Sometimes I wish you had!”

The silence is absolute.  
Billy looks from the upset form of his mother, to the man staring at her in shock, and he has the sudden feeling that there is some kind of intense silent conversation occurring between the two adults.  

The blank and stony countenances above him yield no clues to what it could be, and resignedly, Billy accepts that this is to be yet another one of those “grown up things” that he wouldn’t understand.

Elizabeth takes a shaky breath of air, and gathers her coat closer about her with trembling hands. Billy looks at her in concern, and she gives him a tired smile, pulling him closer to her side in reassurance.

Jack watches, his gaze dark and unreadable. Clearing his throat, he glances to the side, fidgeting slightly on the spot, before once more looking at Elizabeth.

“I’m going to return the chest to Will. He deserves to have it back.”

Elizabeth looks at him in surprise, but before she can respond, Billy has slipped from her grasp.

“You’re going to see my father? Can I go with you? Please?”

“Absolutely not! Jack, stop being ridiculous. The only way to see him would be …”

Jack’s sigh is laden with exasperation and meaning. “You of all people should know Elizabeth, that there are _always_ loopholes.”

“But…how?”

He shakes his head angrily. “Did ye not think, that if it were possible to find a way to the locker, with a certain map, that it might not also be possible to find a way to Will?”

There’s a shocked pause.

Jack snorts. “No, of course you didn’t. Isn’t it so _easy_ to think things are set?”

Elizabeth’s voice is breathy and cautious, “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

Jack frowns and shifts on the spot. “I had a more pressing engagement elsewhere.”

Billy’s utterly lost once more, but he’s managed to catch one piece of information. This man, this Jack Sparrow, is going to see his father!

Jack glances at him, and Billy straightens hopefully. The man shakes his head and looks at his mother. “The lad deserves to know the truth.”

Elizabeth shook her head forcefully. “No. He’s too young.”

Jack snorts disdainfully at the insufficient answer. “He’s as old as Will was when he set out to find his father!”

“Yes, and look where it got him!”

Jack’s expression becomes suddenly vicious. “Married to you?”  he asks sweetly. “Besides, both you and I know the real reason why you’re so upset, don’t we, Lizzie.”  
“Stop it, Jack. I won’t be intimidated by you!”

Jack refuses to be deterred. “You blame yourself.” He whispers, “You blame yourself for your …predicament now. Oh, if only you hadn’t taken the coin off him. If only you hadn’t done that, then things might have gone differently now. He might still be _here_ now.”

There’s a strange gleam in the pirate’s eye as he looks at Elizabeth with dark intensity.  “Such a great sacrifice, for so unworthy a prize.”

The resounding smack of an open palm to cheek rings out and makes Billy jump. He looks at his mother in shock.

Jack stretches his jaw from side to side with a slight wince, turning his head to look back. He smiles, but the expression isn’t a pleasant one. “The truth hurts, darlin’. No doubt about that.” He turns to Billy, who, for the first time since the man tumbled through their window, feels a flicker of fear. “Ye see Billy, your dad is a very important person. Much more important than a mere merchant sailor –“ the last is spat angrily in Elizabeth’s direction.

“Jack, stop!”

“- Your father, William Turner, the son of Bootstrap Bill Turner, is Captain of the _Flying Dutchman._ ”

Billy blinks at the pirate who is staring at him expectantly. “What’s the _Flying Dutchman_? Wait, my father’s a captain?”

Jack’s head snaps up and a dark growl seems to rumble from deep in his throat. “Did you tell him nothing?!” he snarls.

Elizabeth meets his gaze with a dark one of her own, arms crossed defensively in front of her chest.

Jack turns to look at the boy standing behind the woman with whom he has so much history, and small spark of mischief fills him. He grins at the boy encouragingly.

“Would you like to find out?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens!
> 
> Of course we can't show you all the cards just yet! (where would be the fun in that?) but hopefully things are slowly starting to come together now.
> 
> I'm going to see PotC 4 this week, which should be..interesting. (I'm a little nervous, but I've heard a few good things from others.) However that won't change anything story wise - I've got the whole story plotted out and a good chunk of it already written.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to everyone on Livejournal who've left me comments so far! I'm such a sucker for even the smallest feedback!
> 
> Till next weekend! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth and Jack come to an understanding...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From now on William the younger is going to change to Billy (thank god! That was getting tiresome for everyone!). It's a short but necessary chapter this week!
> 
>  
> 
> Previously:
> 
> Jack turns to look at the boy standing behind the woman with whom he has so much history, and small spark of mischief fills him. He grins at the boy encouragingly.
> 
> “Would you like to find out?”

 

Billy stares at the strange man in front of him. “Really?”

Jack nods. “Me and my crew are going to see him. You’d be most welcome to come along.” 

“No.”

They turn to look at the woman standing tall and firm, lips pinched together in a stubborn moue. “No. I won’t have it. And I certainly won’t have you of all people, Jack Sparrow, taking my son from me!”

“I don’t see how you have much choice in the matter, your nibs, seeing as he also happens to be Will’s son.”

There is something tight and desperate to the lines around Elizabeth’s eyes, and Jack is somewhat floored by their sudden appearance. It is as if the vibrant young woman before him has suddenly dropped a mask, and underneath it she is _old._

“Yes,” she whispers. “But unfortunately Will isn’t able to _be_ his father. Not like he should be.”

Jack blinks stupidly at her for several long seconds, utterly poleaxed. He swallows a sudden lump in his throat.

“Lizzie…”

She shakes her head. An abrupt motion that is part anger, part resignation and Jack obediently falls silent.

“He is all I have left, Jack. There is nothing else to sustain me. The dreams I used to have of the perfect, fairy-tale ending have been obliterated. I cannot return to normal society because of those same events, and yet I cannot move on either. I am as trapped as Will, but unlike him there is no purpose to drive me. There is no single day in ten years where I am given a reprieve.”

Jack lets out a slow long breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, his eyes falling shut for a single moment and seeing in the darkness the unutterable history that lies between them; as deep as a chasm and as unchangeable as the sea. He opens them and gazes at the woman who is so similar to himself, and yet so different.

“I would change things if I could. You know that. If I could’ve, we’d all be livin’ a vastly different life right now.” He looks at Elizabeth sombrely. “I made a mistake, Lizzie. I didn’t account for Jones stabbing Will. And because of that, my hand was forced.” He swallows again, but the lump remains stubbornly fixed. “I couldn’t just let him die…”

There are tears in Elizabeth’s eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. Her posture remains upright and disciplined, and Jack admires her for the effort he knows it takes.

“I know. And I’m grateful for what you did. For what you sacrificed, Jack. But sometimes…” she takes a tremulous breath. “ Sometimes I just think it all would’ve been easier if you’d been as selfish as you always try to pretend you are.”

There is another tense silence, and Jack ruefully thinks that that is all there can ever be between them from now on. Too much bad blood.

Billy shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the next, aware enough to know that he’s overhearing a discussion he shouldn’t, but too desperately curious to leave.

Jack takes a long look at the boy and re-evaluates his plans.

He sighs. “Regardless, Elizabeth. The boy deserves to meet his father, and the father to meet his son. At least just this once. He deserves to know everythin’. After that, do as you will,” his lips quirk sardonically at the pun. “Lord knows I won’t stand in your way.”

Elizabeth rubs a weary, calloused hand over her tired features. Billy is looking at her hopefully, his eyes large and shining.

Under the combined assault of son and pirate, she is wavering. Finally, she gives a sigh that is loaded with meaning, but mostly, capitulation.

“You’ll bring him back.”

Jack levels his most serious expression at her and spreads his hands wide. “Darlin’, as sure as my name is Captain Jack Sparrow.”

And finally, Elizabeth smiles.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's it for another week! I'm sorry it's such a short chapter, but after this things start to pick up a bit of speed. :)
> 
> Comments are love. Constructive crit is always welcomed. Discussions on aspects of character and motivation are fun! Hell, even just a "I'm lurking" is good enough for me. ;D
> 
> Have a great week everyone! (I'm about to start a 6 day working week. Joy.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy learns that life aboard a pirate ship isn't always as glamorous as it sounds...

 

Billy hung halfway over the railing; watching the dark water as it disappeared under the prow of the _Black Pearl_.

He had been on the magical ship for several days now and he was more anxious than ever for something to _happen._

He was also annoyed. All the stories he’d ever read had obviously never been on a real pirate ship, or they’d know it was _dreadfully_ dull, and consisted of lots and lots of chores.

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate being here. He did, truly! It’s just that he’d been expecting a lot more fighting and battles and stuff. Not _chores_.

When he’d mentioned this to Mr. Gibbs, the man had scolded him lightly. “Be thankful for those chores, lad. Battles and adventures aren’t as glorious as they’re always made out to be, you mark my words!” and then he’d swiftly changed the subject to something else.

The crew all seemed very tolerant of him. And all of them were quite interesting. They certainly looked like the odd mis-matched figures that his imagination conjured whilst reading adventure stories.

He was learning a lot – they taught him how to splice ropes and tie knots that never came undone. But still… Billy just wished that something more, well, piratey, would happen.

The Captain fascinated Billy. Now there was a man who was _definitely_ piratey. He looked as if he’d walked straight off the illustrated page of a story – a cross between the savage and the civilised. He occupied some “other” class that Billy couldn’t quite put his finger on, something beyond normal.

It was from the Captain and Mr. Gibbs that he was finally starting to learn the truth about his father. – Though, he was slightly sceptical about most of it. 

During an elaborate dinner in the Captain’s cabin, Gibbs began the fascinating tale of how Captain Jack had met his father. 

“…that nigh’” Gibbs whispered solemnly, “there were a mutiny.”

Jack seemed to twitch – though whatever emotion it represented was gone so fast that Billy wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it.

“Mutiny?” Billy queried.

“Aye, lad. Nasty business. And one every captain fears to hear.”

Billy wanted to know more, but some shadow seemed to hover over the Captain’s person, so he reluctantly decided to drop it.

“Now, Billy,” Gibbs continued eagerly. “When a man is marooned, he’s given a pistol with a single shot…”

Billy leans forward, food forgotten, and waits impatiently as the old sailor takes a swig of his drink.

“Well that pistol won’t do no good for hunting now, will it? But after a while, without food or hope, that pistol is startin’ to look miiiiighty friendly.”

Billy’s eyes are round and he’s looking at Gibbs with horrified fascination. He looks over to the Captain, who doesn’t seem to be following the story, before reverting his gaze back to Gibbs. “So how’d the Captain get off the island, then?”

Jack kicks his feet off the table and wanders away, idly searching for something.

Gibbs however, is fully immersed, thrilled at his avid audience. “Well, I’ll tell ye lad. He waded out into the shallows and stood there for three  days and three nights, until all manner o’ creatures came and acclimated to his presence. And then he lashed himself a couple o’ sea turtle and made himself a raft!”

Billy’s eyes are close to popping out of his head so round are they on his youthful face. He turns to look at the Captain, who’s leaning against the bulkhead carelessly.

A frown suddenly mars the boy’s features and he gives the man a stern glance. “ Hang on… what did you use for rope?”

Gibbs bursts out into loud belly rumbling laughter, startling the young boy who looks at him in confusion. Jack merely grins, holding up a silver hip flask in a silent toas

For the life of him, Billy just can’t figure out what is so funny.

 

~*~*~*~

 

“Captain?”

“Mmmm?”

“About my father….”

“…?”

“You said he was a captain too?”

“Mmm, and not doin’ too badly from what I’ve seen and heard…”

Billy released his breath in a stunned and proud exhalation. “But…you mentioned something earlier. Does that mean he’s a pirate also?”

Jack gave him a gold tinted grin. “Aye, he is.”

Billy worried his lip in consideration. “I don’t understand, sir. There’s more to it. There has to  be.”

With a heartfelt sigh, Jack rubbed his brow, cursing Davy Jones for the upteenth time since the whole debacle began. He looks at the young boy before him seriously, and has a vague sense of history repeating itself…

With another, more pronounced sigh, he clapped Billy on the shoulder and crouched down to his level. “I know. I know ye don’t understand a lot of what’s goin’ on, and I know it’s frustrating as all hell, but ye have to understand… a lot o’ it ain’t mine to tell, savvy?”

Billy understands, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Jack grimaces, knowing it’s not an easy thing to stomach. “I swear on me dishonour lad, I’ll tell ye as much as I can about your da. But not just now…”

Billy nods before he questioned, “Savvy?”

With an explosive breath, Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and prays to whatever deity may be listening for some patience. “ Means do ye ‘ken?”

“Oh. Yes… I  suppose so.”

“Good.”

They stand silently together for a while, listening to the wind in the rigging and the scurrying sounds of the crew as they go about their duties.

“Captain?”

“Yes lad?”

“Will you teach me to fight?” he hopefully eyes the cutlass strapped to Jack’s side.

Jack looks at him through narrow eyes, considering. He shakes his head and mumbles, “Will’s goin’ to kill me for this…” louder, he addresses the boy in front of him. “Your da’s gonna be awfully crushed that he couldn’t teach ye himself, but the way I see it is if we run into some trouble, you’ll be needin’ to be a bit more prepared than what ye are…”

Billy cant stop the wide and excited grin that crosses his features, and the pirate grins back at him.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

With a heartfelt groan, Billy flops down onto the bench in the galley, tiredly rubbing his sore arms.

A good portion of the crew who are already seated chuckle in amusement.

With a consoling pat on the back, Mr. Gibbs slides Billy’s ration over to him, and Billy tiredly picks at it.

“Why didn’t anyone warn me that sword fighting was going to be this painful?” He winced as the question unwittingly came out on a whine, but Billy tiredly decides to ignore it.

“Well,” Gibbs smiles, “ye didn’t ask now, did ye?”

“Mmf.” Billy’s head thunks loudly onto the table, unable to support its weight a minute longer.

Gibbs grins. “Workin’ ye too hard, is he?”

“Yes! And besides, this is the twelfth day now and we’re _still_ not using real blades.”

“Be thankful for that, lad. Just think how much more pain ye’d be in if it were metal!”

Billy sighed and continues to pick at his food. “I  suppose so.”

Gibbs watches him. “Ye know if he’s hard on you, it’s only cause he wants you to be good for when ye meet your father.”

Billy blinked at him. “Why?”

Gibbs shakes his head. “Yer father is without a doubt one o’ the best swordsmen I’ve ever seen. Only the Captain comes close, really. They’re an impressive sight, when they decide to duel.”

“Really?!”

“Mmhm.”

Billy hurriedly swallowed the remainder of his meal before racing back out onto the deck to continue his training.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's a bit of a filler, so apologies for that. More action to come next week. Promise!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pearl sails out past civilisation, and Billy's curiousity gets the better of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The board is set, and the pieces are moving. - Oh, wait. Wrong Fandom. Still applies though! ;)

The waters had been getting steadily rougher as they sailed out past civilisation and into the unknown.

The ocean had changed from its turquoise luminescence to a deep indigo, more black than blue. The sun seemed to retreat from her lofty perch high above, turning her gaze to more refined waters.

The waves lifted the _Black Pearl_ to terrifying and lofty heights as the water rolled angrily under her wooden bow. Each pitch of the sea set the great ship’s prow at a disturbing angle to the depths below her, and more than one hardened sailor had embarrassed himself with a display worthy of the most land bound of lubbers.

Billy had staggered his way around the deck for the first few days, precariously making his way to and fro. He’d been more than capable of maintaining his balance in the calmer waters near his home, but now he grasped and stumbled his way about.

Jack had frowned, carefully watching his progress.

On the third day, when the waves seemed to tower over the _Pearl’s_ rigging, Jack had sternly ordered him below.

After vehemently arguing that he was fine, Billy was forcefully escorted into the Captain’s cabin and told to “stay put, or else!”

Billy had sulked and pouted for about an hour and stood forlornly by the great window at the aft of the ship. Something – probably a cannon shot, thought Billy with glee - from long before had broken a large section of the glass panel, and so formed an opening* where Billy could watch the large waves buck and heave behind them.

He was still feeling cheated when a sudden dip of the deck threw him halfway across the great cabin. Only then, picking himself up off the wooden floor, did Billy reluctantly admit that he was probably better off inside.

Carefully making his way around the dark interior, he poked and prodded at the various odds and ends that were scattered about. There were feathers of exotic birds stuck between the pages of an old and yellowed book. Bones of some unknown animal were left about as paperweights and ornaments both, and in a chest, tucked into a random corner of the room were a assortment of jars filled with viscous liquids and the shrivelled remains of plants.

Billy observed all of these curiously, carefully putting things back in their places before he moved on.

The Captain’s ornate wooden desk stood in the centre of the room, grandly commanding, and Billy accommodatingly went over to investigate.

Charts, coastal drawings and large scrolls of paper with a cursive script were strewn about its surface, and there were splashes of ink from where movement of the ship had caused the fluid to slip from its well. Billy reached over and secured the lid more firmly to prevent any more spillage, wiping his stained fingers on his breeches.

The deck heaved once more, and with a stumbling step, Billy fell into the seat behind the desk with a heavy “oomph”.  
The lanterns swung on their hinges above, and cast eerie shadows over the dark interior. Trying to shake himself out of his scare, he reached out and moved some of the papers aside, and a splash of colour appeared.

Frowning, he gently pulled out the circular item, which was ribbed on the back. On its front there were numerous markings and pictures, but try as he might, Billy couldn’t seem to make any sense of them.

Reaching out to trace a picture gently with his finger, the ship dipped with a weighty groan of wood, causing him to fall hard against the desk, his hand slipping unnaturally hard.

Billy gave a large wince and cautiously looked down at his find, expecting to see a large tear, however a surge of relief runs through him at its pristine state. Billy blinked down at it, noticing that the pictures upon the surface had changed. Instead of ripping, one large segment had rotated smoothly, purposely, around to join with another. 

Fascinated, Billy pushed the inner part around with one finger, and suddenly, the lines join up with an outer ring and the outline of a foreign continent was revealed.

In all his days, Billy had never seen a map like this. He observed it with a sense of wonder and speculation, looking at the different rings, and he figured it must be some new kind of pirate map to prevent rivals from finding buried treasure.

With an excited grin, he pushed the circles here and there, moving one this way, and one that way. In front of him, a picture of the west wind blows towards a passage between two large islands covered in mist. A shadowy figure resides there, and though Billy squints with all his might, he is unable to discern who or what it is. Giving up, Billy moved one of the inner rings idly, until text with “the furthest gate” appeared, complete with an oriental ship. He considers what this could mean, before his gaze flicks briefly to an outside ring, where he freezes.  
Turning the map around towards him, a familiar figure is revealed in a soft watery stain.

“Mum?” Billy breathes the question to the empty cabin.

Amazingly it’s undeniably her, etched there in ink and colour.

Another figure close by, yet separate lies on the map, and the unmistakable figure of Captain Jack lies on the map’s surface.

Billy isn’t quite sure what to make of this sudden development, and it makes his head hurt to even try.

He squints at the pictures, turning his head this way and that to try and make sense of why –and how - they could both be on a map as old as this.

A bright shine from the flickering lamp distracts him, and Billy blinks, bedazzled by the sudden reflection. He looks about trying to place where it’s coming from, when he suddenly spots it.

Lying underneath a pile of oddities, and covered by a thick cloth, he can see the small shiny corner of his father’s chest.

With a furtive glance at the deck above – and where he can faintly hear the Captain’s powerful voice barking out orders – Billy carefully crept his way over the swaying floor, reaching out and removing the chest from it’s pile of detritus.

A long moment passes where Billy’s conscience wrestles with his blazing curiosity, until finally the young boy makes a decision.

Grasping about to find some small tool with which to pick the sturdy lock, Billy encounters a thin needle like instrument. Unsure of its exact purpose, but glad for it’s presence nonetheless, he fits the small utensil into the lock and carefully jiggles it.

With a heavy huff of frustration at the dim light of the cabin, he picks up the chest and his tool and relocates near the broken window, where the grey sky’s glare pierces the gloomy dim of the cabin. With this improved lighting, he juggles the chest in one hand, back to the window, and tool in his other hand. With determined concentration, he tries to pry the lock from its stubborn place.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?”

Billy lets out a startled – and embarrassing – yelp, his hands slipping on the chest just as the crest of a large wave sends both boy and chest reeling backwards, out through the narrow opening, under the stricken gaze of one Captain Jack Sparrow.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * This is a direct reference to DMC and the Pearl's fight Kraken - some of the tentacles smash the windows and then wrap around Elizabeth's leg as she's trying to shoot. Somewhere, (I think it's in AWE) there's a deleted scene/Easter egg which shows that the window still hasn't been repaired and Jack mentions he's thinking about installing some french windows - he likes a bit of a crossbreeze.  
> I like the idea that it's just something Jack's been meaning to do but just never gotten around to.
> 
> A/N 2: Sorry to leave you all hanging. *grins* Actually, not really.  
> From here on out things start moving rapidly.  
> Some of you may be wondering where Will is - he's still a few chapters away, but I promise it'll be worth it. ;)
> 
> Note - all the pictures I mention on Sao Feng's map are actually true. A mixture of watching AWE extras and a bit of digging gave me the information. Most of my information came from here: http://numberonestars.com/pirates3/production15.htm
> 
> Which has some really great information if you haven't read it already.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Billy lets out a startled – and embarrassing – yelp, his hands slipping on the chest just as the crest of a large wave sends both boy and chest reeling backwards, out through the narrow opening, under the stricken gaze of one Captain Jack Sparrow...."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: This chapter contains details that may be trigger inducing for those who have experiences with near drowning. If this is something that bothers you, click the second LJ cut to skip.

~*~*~*~

 

Somewhere, many miles away on a large and ghostly ship, a man collapses to the deck, clutching a jagged scar on his chest as the crew panics and runs to his aid...

 

~*~*~

 

Billy hits the water with a tremendous splash, sinking deep. The silver chest belonging to his father still clutched in his frightened hands.

Belated survival instinct has him kicking frantically as he is pulled and then pushed within the strong current. The buoyant chest in his hands helps his progress somewhat, and Billy sends a grateful prayer that it didn’t drag him down any deeper than he was.

Pulling the chest close to his own chest, he kicks hard, lungs screaming, until finally – finally! – he breaks the surface with a gasping heave.

The waves, which had appeared large whilst on board the _Pearl_ tower over his head, and twice Billy is pushed under, floundering as the sting of sea water blurs his eyes and the salty brine floods his mouth and scrapes his throat, interrupting his hiccoughing breaths for air.

His clothes hang heavily on his frame, and his shoes feel like great weights strapped to his feet, making it tiresome to kick.

With a scared sob, Billy is pushed underneath the water once more, but this time, as he tumbles about in the flow of water, he doesn’t know if he has the strength to make it back to the top. Or even in which direction the top is. He kicks futilely, nonetheless.

Just when he is on the verge of giving up, something grasps him by the collar, yanking him upwards – though truthfully it feels more like sideways.

Billy coughs and splutters, shivering as his head once more breaks the surface and he is pulled into a warm side.

“’s alright. Easy, Jackie’s got ye now.”

Billy can’t do anything but gasp and blink stupidly at the blurry form of the Captain.

“Just breathe lad. There ye go! Now can ye kick for me? Good boy, very well done. Now just keep kicking. No, don’t let go of that chest! Just breathe and kick an’ I’ll do the rest. Come on. See? Not so hard.”  And so the litany continues, but Billy is only half paying attention, his eyes squeezed shut, and breath coming in shaky gasps as he shivers, kicks and hugs the chest to him.

Slowly the pirate and boy make their way steadily towards the silhouetted form of the _Pearl_. Billy peers up at the great hulking form, and through bleary eyes he can see the frantic shapes of men running about on deck.

Finally, they’re close enough, and a rope is tossed from above. With a jolt, they’re plucked from the ocean’s grasping jaws, and they land with a wet slap upon the dark deck.

********

 

Billy closes his eyes, cheek pressed into the warm wood and simply _breathes_.

A strange weight makes him tiredly open his eyes a minute later, and Mr. Gibbs gives him a small smile as he tucks a scratchy wool blanket about his shoulder, before moving and offering a blanket to the Captain.

Billy gulps and looks up cautiously at the man.

Bedraggled, missing his great coat and sans boots, with his shirt clinging to his lithe frame, the Captain stands with hands on hips and a fierce glower on his face.

He takes a menacing step forward, and Billy flinches, trying to retreat into the wood beneath him.

“Do you…” the pirate begins, eyes flashing dangerously, “have _any_ idea _–“_

“- Jack.” 

“WHAT?!” The Captain spins and levels an even more fearsome glare at Mr Gibbs, and Billy shakes from something other than cold.

The older man shakes his head, and takes the Captain by the elbow, pulling him aside.

Both the crew and Billy look on curiously as a heated discussion seems to take place between Captain and first mate, but the older man holds his ground stubbornly. There is a deadly silence from the rest of the crew, as ears are intently pricked, trying to hear the heatedly whispered words. Billy watches, before he pulls the blanket tight about him and shivers forlornly.

“ _Fine._ ”

Conversation evidently over, the Captain spins sharply on his heel, snatching the chest from where it lay, temporarily forgotten on the deck. He storms his way noisily into the grand cabin and disappears.

The loud slam of the doors seems to unfreeze the rest of the crew from their stupefaction. They quickly set themselves to their original tasks, as if nothing has happened.

Gibbs sighs, taking in the dejected form of the boy slumped on the deck.

“Come on then, lad. Let’s get ye inside and warmed up.”

Together they trudge down the pitching deck and into the galley, where Gibbs sets the boy down near the warmth of the stove, and the cook sets about making them some tea.

The silence is heavy with the shame the boy is carrying on his young shoulders and Gibbs takes pity on the lad.

“Ye know he’s not really angry with ye, don’t ye?”

Silence and a small shrug is his only answer and Gibbs shakes his head, cursing Jack Sparrow’s damn pride.

“Ye scared him lad. Truly. That’s why he’s angry, see? Why, I’ll bet your mother does the same thing when you give her a fright, eh?”

Billy licks at his salt encrusted lips and nods shakily, taking a small sip of tea.

Gibbs shakes his head. “Well, it’s the exact same thing. Jack might not like to admit that he’s susceptible to such feelings, but he is. Never have I seen him more panicked than when he came running out o’ that cabin just now…”

“Really?”

Gibbs nods.

“I should go apologise I  suppose…” Billy looks at the door and makes to get up before Gibbs stops him.

“Best wait for a while,” the old salt tells him. “Ye gave him an awful big scare…”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Jack storms into his cabin in a sodden rage, slamming the doors behind him.

With a glare at the guilty room he stomps over to the starboard side and into his sleeping quarters, dropping the chest onto his bunk.

He grabs up the key from its hidden spot with one hand, whilst his other reaches for a bottle of rum. Popping open the corked lid with one hand, he takes a swig and tries to ignore the way his hands are trembling. With some trepidation - and some more rum - he unlocks and opens the heavy metal lid.

Will’s heart beats in a steady, reassuring tempo from its corner of the box, and some of the anxiety that Jack had been carrying escapes in a relieved exhalation.

With a slightly unsteady hand, - he tells himself it’s merely from the rush, that’s all - he rubs his face wearily, seeing behind his closed lids the events of the last few minutes played out in horrific precision. He pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache, eyes still closed, and takes another long draught from the bottle in his other hand.

So much could’ve gone wrong tonight. Two years of careful planning dashed in a single instant. And wouldn’t that be a fine reunion with death’s retrieval system, eh? “Oh, hullo William! I was just on me way to see you with your son in tow, when there was a lil’ accident. So sorry! Guess you wouldn’t be so willing to help me out with a certain situation now, seeing as I just let your only son _die!_ But look at it this way! At least it was at sea, eh? _”_

He gives an angry snort and pinches harder till flashes of colour replace the unforgiving dark behind his closed lids. 

The steady _tha-thump_ of Will’s heart slowly sets his own back into its natural rhythm and he opens his eyes to stare at the open chest in front of him.

With a little growl to himself, he slams the chest shut and shoves it under the bunk, pacing at its foot.

It is some time before he realises he’s creating a large puddle from where he’s been treading the boards. Stripping off the sodden garments he kicks them into a corner dismissively, rummaging around until a dry, if not clean, change of clothing is found.

He sits heavily down on the bunk once more, the rum bottle sloshing enticingly and obligingly takes another gulp of its contents.

 _That great stupid lummox of a boy!_ One corner of his mind hisses in rage. _What right did he have poking his nose about where it didn’t belong?_

 _He’s only curious about his ‘da._ Another part reprimands sternly. _And who can blame him, eh? When someone still hasn’t told him all he should’ve, hm? _

_Well that’s hardly our fault,_ says another, its tone both beseeching and defensive at the same time. _It’s not as if it’s an easy conversation, now, is it? Oh hello, Billy, about your dad… he’s had his heart cut out and stuck in this box, ‘ere and now, due to some rather dubious and stupid whims of a goddess, he’s become terror incarnate to mortal men, death at sea if ye will. And it’s ‘cause o’ me that he’s there.  So sorry. Still want to meet him then?  
_

There are several snorts of grudging amusement at this, and Jack echoes them aloud.

 _Is bad business this. You shouldn’t have started it in the firs’ place. The boy was an unneeded risk. You’ve got the chest, surely that’s enough?_

The clinking of trinkets echoes softly as Jack shakes his head. _Is all about leverage, mate. Chest isn’t enough. Not for someone like Will.  
_

 _He – well, I guess we… or is it I? – am right. The chest and its content ain’t enough to make the bloody stubborn whelp do anything. Better to take precaution and a more figurative stand. Physical well bein’ has never mattered to ‘im, not when someone he cares for is in danger…_

 _Hmmm….  
_

 _Ye should have some more rum._

 _Definitely.  
_

 _Good idea._

His hand moves obligingly without conscious thought. 

 _Much better. Now where were we?_

 _The boy._

 _Oh, yeah…_

There’s blessed silence for a few minutes, before Jack lets out a tired sigh.

 _Is too late to turn back now. You’re halfway there. Not much to be done but follow through…. Besides, he’s a rather charming lad, admit it._

 _I’ll do no such thing!  
_

 _With a bit more trainin’ he’d make a fine pirate._

 _Hmm, well there is that.  
_

 _Will’s gonna see right through you, us, mmf, whoever! Ye know that don’t you?_

A huff.

 _Bloody whelp._

 _  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Well, there we have it! A near death experience and Multiple!Jacks.
> 
> Excited? Disappointed? Just what can wicked Jack be planning?
> 
> I realise the Multiple Jack sequence won't work for everyone, so I apologise if anyone found it too jarring. I debated on cutting it out, but in the end it does help allude to future plot developments without giving too much away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " Will’s gonna see right through you, us, mmf, whoever! Ye know that don’t you? " - Billy gets his first glance at the Flying Dutchman.

“Won’t be long now, lad. Keep a weather eye out, eh?” 

Billy did, eagerly scouring the mist for the first glimpse of a ghostly ship. Every now and then a towering pinnacle of rock would appear treacherously close to either side of the _Black Pearl_ and the crew would suck in a collective breath of apprehension.  

Captain Jack steered the vessel with a confidence that to Billy seemed foolhardy in such treacherous waters. 

The broken remnants of a mizzenmast speared the water, as they sailed eerily past the unfortunate remains of a merchant ship. Ahead the prow of a great man-o-war was wedged against a rocky outcrop off their portside bow, and Mr. Gibbs crossed himself hurriedly. Billy copied him dutifully.

There was nary a sound from the crew aboard the _Black Pearl_. The oppressive weight of the fog smothered all attempts at conversation and seemed to threateningly suggest against such overtures.

The groan of decaying wood and the wail of wind through rock were the only sounds and Billy shivered at the mournful sound. He looked up at the Captain for some reassurance and received it in the man’s upright and unconcerned expression.

The sun strove desperately to pierce the gloom, and failing miserably, shone disconsolately as a glaring spot in the sky.

They were sailing between two large rocks, bracing them on either side when the cry they’d been hoping for was torn from a crewman’s throat with a perceptible quavering of fear.

“Sail, ho!” 

Turning into the open water, Jack ordered the anchor to be dropped. The crew raced to their duty, happy to fill their vision with something other than the dreary landscape around them. 

Billy went to the railing and peered out at the unfortunate schooner, dashed on the rocks and listing terribly. They were a ways off from the vessel, but in the still air Billy could hear the groans and fearful cries of those trapped on board.

“Shouldn’t we help them?”

The captain came to his side and joined him in his observation. He shook his head a moment later, the trinkets in his hair jangling.

“Aint our place to do so, lad. Best to wait and leaving things be.”

“But there’s people alive and hurt over there!”

Jack looked down at the young distressed face before him. “We’ll wait. If there are survivors we’ll take ‘em on board. But we’ll wait first.”

Billy bit his lip and watched, listening as the cries grew steadily quieter and eventually fell silent.

Finally, he could take it no longer. “How long are we going to wait?” 

“Hush, lad. Any minute now…”

Billy obediently fell quiet, trying to stop his shifting and fidgeting. The crew all crowded the portside rail, and watched. 

A deep rumbling sound occurred from somewhere far below, and Billy backed fearfully into the Captain’s strong form. A weathered hand fell reassuringly onto his shoulder and Billy gulped gratefully.

The water in front of them began to bubble and froth unnaturally, churning itself into a choppy wash.

Some members of the crew were murmuring or crossing themselves, whilst others had run to the other side of the ship, as far as they could away from the perceived threat.

The water went suddenly still and the noise disappeared.

Everything stopped.

Billy let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, when, with an almighty splash, the prow of a large ship projected forth from the water. Surging up to land on the ocean’s surface, it bobbed for a few seconds, before turning. The three masted behemoth gracefully shed the water from her wood and canvas, sails snapping in the still breeze, and metal shining in the gloom.

Billy’s next breath caught in his throat, a mixture of excitement and anxiety churning in his stomach. He glanced up at the Captain to see him grinning roguishly, eyes fastened on the large ship before them.

The faint voices of a busy crew echoed out across the water, and Billy scanned the other deck of the ship hopefully.

A cry was quickly raised from the _Flying Dutchman_ as they were spotted and Jack gave a triumphant grin.

“AHOY THERE, CAPTAIN TURNER!”

There was a bustle of activity from the other ship, but no return cry. Jack gave a thoughtful ‘hmm’, and glanced down at the boy at his side. “I don’t think he can quite hear us.”

Billy grinned at him, and happily joined in.

“ALLO!”

“Hello!”

  
~*~*~*~

 

“Will, you need to come and see this.” 

Will looked up curiously from his desk. “What?”

Bill shook his head, arms crossed in front of his chest. “You won’t believe me. Just, come see.” 

With a sigh, Will put down the chart he’d been working on, and followed his father up onto the deck. 

He stopped, staring in disbelief, at the silhouette moored off their starboard side. 

“It can’t be.” 

The _Black Pearl_ bobbed merrily on the surface of the dark waters.  

Making his way swiftly aft, he grabbed a scope from one of his crew. Before he could put it to his eye however, a familiar voice echoed out across the water. 

“I SAID AHOY THERE!”

Will found a smile creeping unbidden across his face and he shook his head. There, even without the glass, was the unmistakable figure of Captain Jack Sparrow, waving his arms across the distance. He could see Gibbs standing loyally at Jack’s side, and small figure standing next to them.

He frowned suddenly. The figure was far too tall to be Marty, in fact.

He raised the glass up, just as a young voice cried out across the water, “Ahoy there!!!”

Will felt the glass fall from suddenly nerveless fingers. Beside him, he could hear his father suck in a shocked breath.

Then, William Turner, captain of the fearsome _Flying Dutchman_ and harbinger of Death, fainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short one this week. I also can't believe we're already up to Chapter 7!
> 
> Sorry this is a bit late. Work has me working on my day off. *HISS*
> 
> Next week: Will wakes up. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William Turner - Meet William Turner. Also, Jack starts to realise just how fetching Will looks in that green bandanna.

 

Angry and heated voices clamoured in the dark around him and he frowned, trying to ignore their insistent presence in the void.

“You and your bloody theatrics, Jack, I swear!”

“How was I to know he’d bloody well swoon like a woman? I didn’t even know he _could_ swoon! He ain’t got no heart!”

“Typical. Only ever thinking about yourself!”

The squawk of outrage is what finally convinced Will that it might be a good time to wake up. With a heavy sigh, he managed to open his eyes, blinking against the glare.

The familiar lines of the _Dutchman_ ’s rigging greeted him first, but a hint of movement off to his side distracted him. 

A young boy of about seven or eight years old sat on his knees beside him. Dark familiar eyes greeted him in a pale face, while freckles dotted the boy’s young nose. Honey-dark hair fell in graceful waves about his head, making something painful lodge in Will’s throat.

The boy was watching him steadily, eyes curious but anxious.

Will swallowed hard, and desperately tried to wet his suddenly parched throat. “Hello,” he croaked.

The boy beside him smiled uncertainly. “Hello.”

Miraculously, the squabbling men in the background stopped. Will firmly ignored them, eyes glued to the figure by his side. “What’s your name?”

“William Turner, sir.”

He could feel a smile pull at the corners of his lips, and from somewhere to his right he could hear Jack snort eloquently. The boy looked slightly embarrassed.

“The Captain calls me Billy, though. I kind of like that better.”

Will nodded to himself, eyes still glued on the figure at his side. “Billy,” he breathed, sitting carefully up.

There was a very serious expression on the young boy’s face that Will realised with a jolt, was one his own often wore.

Billy nervously wiped a hand on his pant leg and held it out politely. “It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”

Will blinked at the proffered hand, and before he was even aware of doing it, he’d pulled his son into his arms. The boy stiffened at first, before young arms tentatively slid around his neck, hugging back.

Will breathed in the youthful scent as his vision blurred through threatening tears.

 

~*~*~

 

Jack shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other as the scene of familial love played out before him. Bill stood next to him, a proud paternal smile covering his face at the sight of his son and grandson.

Standing there next to three generations of Turner, Jack had never felt so old in his life.

He took a hasty gulp from the flask strapped to his side.

The movement seemed to break whatever air had come over the figures seated on the deck, and Will pulled reluctantly back from the embrace.

Jack couldn’t stop himself from staring at the other man. The last time he’d seen Will, he’d newly risen from the dead - and the depths – and there’d been too much really happening to fully appreciate the fact that Will was alive.

Or rather, un-dead.

Whatever.

Point being, the man was still mostly whole.

Now however, Jack couldn’t help but notice the changes.  
Death suited Will.

Quite well.

He hadn’t aged, obviously, but he’d definitely changed.

Wearing a simple white, collared shirt and a green bandanna, Will seemed to be much more comfortable in this guise than he ever had as a blacksmith. He held himself with the practised ease of a born sailor – Or pirate, Jack grinned – and his movements were precise and sure. Authority sat comfortably on his wide shoulders, and Jack was rather pleased to see it.

He’s also rather thrilled to see he’s kept the earring.

Will is busy looking at young Billy, eyes eagerly devouring every facet of information they can glean.

Billy for his part is doing a similar thing, though his gaze is more filled with not so carefully disguised awe and adoration.

“What are you doing here?” Will asks finally, question aimed at no one.

The young boy in front of him looks slightly disheartened, and Will must have noticed it too, because he quickly amends his statement. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you, but this isn’t exactly the place for… well-” Will stuttered to an awkward stop, glancing from the boy, to Jack, to his father and then back.

“Just how much does he know exactly?”

Jack grimaced, and his displeasure is stark for all to see. “Not a lot.”

Will frowned for a minute, but then he smiled at the boy in front of him, squeezing a young shoulder. “I’m so pleased to see you Billy.”

The boy’s grin looks like it’s about to split his face.

Bootstrap suddenly shifts, glancing back over his shoulder at the wrecked schooner, and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Will.”

“I know.” Will sighed. His gaze flicked up and met Jack’s own, and Jack tipped his head in concession.

“We’ll be on the _Pearl_ when you’re done.”

Will nodded gratefully, giving the boy’s shoulder one final squeeze, before he led them to the dinghy, tied to the rail.  “I won’t be long.” he promised.

They descended the stairs and made their way back over to the dark shape of the _Pearl,_ whilst the _Dutchman_ and her crew busily got to work.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a filler chapter this week, but next chapter Jack and Will have a long overdue Talk, and we get to see some more of Jack's plan. (Or do we?)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is Jack and Will, talking, banter, plans and rum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, this is one of my fav. chapters, so I hope you enjoy it too!  
> A reminder that this fic was written and set BEFORE PotC 4: On Stranger Tides. - You'll see echoes of themes, but my head canon ran a different way.

 

Sometime later, after the _Dutchman_ had accepted her new crewmembers, and father and son had had a chance to talk and get to know one another a little better, the _Flying Dutchman_ and the _Black Pearl_  slid gracefully through the water, side by side, to a more hospitable locale.  
That night, after all had settled, Jack was lazing in the chair behind his desk, feet up on the solid structure in front of him, humming a tune, with a bottle of rum in hand.

"So are you going to tell me why you're really here?"

Jack yelped, and toppled backwards out of his chair, dropping the rum in the process. He glared at the other man, and then at the spreading puddle of rum.

"Now look what ye've done!"

Will just quirked an eyebrow at his antics, crossing his arms in front of him.

Jack huffed and scooped up the remaining liquor, setting it gently down on the desk. His eyes darted back to Will assessingly. "That is a very neat trick, by the way."

Will grinned unapologetically and stepped fully out from the _Pearl's_ bulkhead and into the cabin proper. "It has its uses."

"Hmm." Jack righted the chair and plonked himself down once more, conjuring two glasses from a hidden compartment as he did so. "So you can come on board the _Pearl_ then. I thought ye might be able too."

Will sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk and watched him pour. "Mmm. Something about being at sea, and sister ships and.... it's all rather complicated really."

Jack saluted him with his mug, and quickly downed it's contents.

Will fiddled with his for a second, before taking a more cautious gulp.

Jack tilted his head, bird-like, in query. "Can you eat and drink normally then?"

Will shrugged, turning the mug about on the wooden surface. "I don't really need too, but it's hard to break the habit..."

"Ah."

There was a heavy, uncomfortable silence that seemed to stretch unusually long. To fill it, Jack poured himself another drink.

"You didn't answer my question, Jack."

When he looked up, Will's eyes were dark and serious, the small furrow between his brow appearing once again. "Didn't I?"

The furrow increased. "No, you didn't. Why are you here?"

" To re - "

"And don't say to re-unite myself and Billy."

The pirate snapped his jaw shut with an audible 'click'.

Will shook his head, his eyes falling upon the familiar circular map on Jack's desk. "The real question, I suppose, would be why the fearless Captain Jack Sparrow would feel he needed leverage over the _Flying Dutchman_ and her Captain?"

Jack grinned his gold-toothed grin. "My, we have grown up!"

"Jack!"

"What?"

"Answer my bloody question."

"Swearin' now, William? Tsk, tsk."

Will huffed, and rubbed a calloused hand over his face tiredly. "I'd forgotten how infuriating you are."

Jack made a half-hearted theatrical bow whilst still in his seat.  With a heavy sigh, he leaned forward and tapped the map on his desk seriously.  "The truth is..." and here his face twisted into a complex expression, as if he'd tasted something bitter, "I need a favour, William."

Will looked at the pirate in surprise. "Really?"

Jack nodded glumly.

Will's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And what’s in the nature of this favour, Jack?"

Jack sat back in his padded chair, his lips quirking in amusement. “Ye’ve learned yer lessons well, Will, I’ll give ye that.”

Will gave a snort and a faint grin. “I’ve had to, haven’t I? And stop dissembling!”

Nodding solemnly, Jack turned one of the rings on the map smoothly around to it's proper place before twisting the thing around so that it faced Will. He tapped it in answer.

Will frowned, and leaned closer, looking at a ship, before his eyes flitted up to the figure of a fountain. "Aqua de Vita?"

"The Fountain o' Youth!"

"Sounds like your kind of thing. You want me to help you find the Fountain?"

Jack snorted in contempt. "Please, give me more credit than tha', darlin’. I've already found it."

Will blinked. "It really exists?"

In answer, Jack pulled out a small silver hipflask from one of his coat's inner pockets. He placed it in front of them significantly.

Will stared at it for a moment and then at Jack. "That's it?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Well what were you bloody expecting?"

Will shrugged. "I don’t know. Something more impressive I guess."

"Well sorry to crush your grand expectations, but we can't all have our acts of immortality played out so dramatically!"

Will just leveled a halfhearted glare at him, before picking up the flask and uncorking it, sniffing its contents. He frowned. "Doesn't smell that good."

"Tastes bloody awful too!"*

"So why bother?"

Jack just leveled him a 'look'.

Will sighed. "Fine, fine. Congratulations then, on your attainment of immortality!" He took a gulp of rum in an effort to smother the bitterness so obviously apparent in his voice.

"But I haven't."

"What? But you just said..."

Jack grabbed the flask back and secreted it away with a fancy flourish of ring-bedecked hands. "I didn't have enough time. The flask carries enough to last me five years."

Will frowned at the man before him consideringly. "Does this have to do with how you got the _Pearl_ back?"

Jack startles and looked at him in surprise. "How do ye -?"

Will shrugged, self-consciously. "Sister ships. Besides, she's only happy when she's with you Jack."

Jack tried not to feel giddy with this piece of information. He fails miserably and warmly leaned back on his chair to pat the closest piece of wood that he could reach. "Well, tha' makes two of us then."

Will watched it all calmly, thoughts whirring a mile a minute. "What do you need me for Jack?'

Jack swallowed and Will watched his throat bob with the movement.

"There may've been some people I made angry..."

Will can feel a headache building. "May have?"

"Alright, so _did,_ I did make people angry. Now they're keen on killing me person, savvy?"

“And how does this matter? Your immortal, if you'd forgotten.”

“But only for five years. I’ve already used up four an a half of those, and I need to go back.”

Will sighed, and took a swig of rum. “I’m still waiting to hear what you think this has to do with me?”

Jack was leaning forward on his forearms, staring into the mug in his hands as if it held all the answers to life’s mysteries. When he looked up to meet Will’s gaze, the younger man was disturbed to see the darkly serious mien that resided there.

“They know I have to come back that way, and they’ll be waiting. They don’t know where the Fountain is, but they know I do. It’ll take several months to get back to the Fountain and by that time there won’t be anythin’ left in that there flask. Worst bit is, they out-man and out-gun the _Pearl_ , several times over…. Bloody Spaniards.“

Will looked seriously at the man sitting in front of him. “So don’t go back.”

Jack shook his head. “Is not tha’ simple. It has to end, or else I’ll forever be running.”

Fiddling with the now empty mug in front of him, Will felt something like regret flit through him. “Jack…”

“Will. You know I wouldn’t be askin’ if I didn’t need to.”

“I know.” said Will, softly. “Which makes my answer all the more difficult.”

He looked at the man he owed so much to and shook his head sadly. “I’d like to help, Jack. Truly I would. And I’m so very grateful to you for bringing Billy here - even if it was for selfish reasons.”

Jack gave a half-hearted smile.

“- But I can’t abuse the _Dutchman’s_ power that way. I’d be no better than Jones was if I did what you’re asking me to do.”

A weighty silence fell over the cabin then and Jack shook his head ruefully. “Ah well. Worth a shot, eh?”

“Jack…”  
“Oh don’t look at me like that, Will. Your right and you know it. Besides, I’ll be fine. Plus, we can’t have that pretty face o’ yours ruined by tentacles, eh?”

“But –“

“Darlin’, who am I?”

Will smiled sadly and lifted his glass in a silent toast. “If anyone can find another way, it’ll be you… Captain.”

They drank in silence for a few minutes, content to listen to the _Pearl_ ’s creaks and susurrations as she floated on the waves.

“I’m glad you’re here, Jack. I’m glad you came.”

Jack cleared his throat uncomfortably under the earnest gaze of the younger man. “Yes. Well. It’s good to see you too Will. You, er. You look good.” 

Will grinned, suddenly. “What, for being dead, you mean?”

Jack grinned back, “Something like that.” 

“I never did thank you, by the way.”

Jack snorted. “For what?”

“For what you did on board the _Dutchman_. For what you gave up.”

“Enslavement is hardly something to be thanking me for, Will.”

“It’s not enslavement.”

“It was. You didn’t want this, William. You never did. I took the choice from you.”

Will thought about this for a moment. “Maybe. But if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here now to meet Billy.”

Jack shook his head and emptied the bottle of rum into his mug. “Have ye told him what it is you do, yet?”

Will grimaced. “Sort of. I’ve told him bits and pieces, though not the whole thing. There’s just so much to tell. I lived through it, and I still find it hard to believe some days.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“You’ll drink to anything.”  
Jack shrugged. “True enough.”

Will looked seriously at the man opposite, and when he next spoke, there was a steely undercurrent hidden in his voice. “He said Elizabeth told him I was a merchant sailor. That she hadn’t mentioned anything about pirates or any of it really. Why would she do that?”

Jack winced. “Don’t ask me to get inside the mind of a mother, mate.”

“Hmm.” Will sat forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees. “How is she, Jack? And the truth, if you please.”

Jack sighed, and put down the tankard with a loud thud on the table, sitting slightly straighter. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. She’s fallen a long way lad, from her previous life. Governor’s daughter in the lap of luxury to raising a young boy alone in a town full of fishwives and tongue-waggers.”

Will nodded quietly, staring at the scuffed boards beneath his feet.

“I's not your fault, Will.”

Will sighed, and rubbed a calloused hand over his face. “I know. Doesn’t make it any easier to hear though.”

“If it’s any consolation, mate, she looks fine. Young as the day I met ‘er and fit as a fiddle.”

“Good. That’s… that’s good.” Will let out a shaky breath. “ Did she… did she write me a letter, or…?”

Jack carefully swallowed his mouthful of rum with difficulty, and shook his head at the despondent figure in front of him. “No… Sorry.”

Will nodded. “’s alright.”

On a sudden impulse, Jack reached across the table and squeezed the younger man’s hand.

A minute later, Will squeezed back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * If you’ve ever been to the Fountain of Youth park in Florida, you’ll know what I mean. Sulphurous and disgusting. If that's what it really tastes like, you can keep your immortality thanks!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy's compares his dream of his father, to reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this week - and it's a bit of a teaser, sorry. (No I'm not.)

 

 

Billy lay in his bunk - tired but too excited to sleep. He watched the beams above his head as he swayed too and fro in his hammock, rocked comfortingly by gentle waves under the _Black Pearl_ ’s bow. 

From his spot, he could hear the sounds of the rigging above deck, rustling in the gentle breeze.

So much had happened in such a short period of time. He’d learned so much, he was slightly afraid he was going to forget all of it. Truth be told, he still wasn’t sure it wasn’t a dream.

A fantastical dream, and that he’d wake up back in the familiar surrounds of his bedroom back home, with the faint taste of the sea air his only company.

Discreetly he moved his hand over to his left arm and gave himself a rough pinch. It hurt, and he gave the panelled ceiling above him a happy grin. He’d taken to doing that a few times a day, just to make sure.

It’d been close to two months since he left home with Captain Sparrow. He’d been unsure what to expect when they first set off. Part of him had wondered if the man hadn’t been lying. – what were the chances that the man really knew his father?

But his Mum had believed him. That was some relief at least. She’d walked down to the harbour with them, after packing up a few things for Billy, and taken the Captain aside for a whole hour to discuss the trip. Billy had been left to meet the crew and learn his way about the great black ship, but he’d still observed the two of them, on the shore.

He wished she could’ve come with them. The Captain had offered, and for a minute Billy had watched hopefully as she eyed the ship with a considering air, before finally shaking her head.

“I think I’ve had quite enough adventure on that ship, Captain Sparrow. No need to tempt the fates.” But there’d been a small smile playing on her lips when she’d said it.

He hadn’t understood then, but when they’d been out on open water, after one of their sword lessons, the Captain had regaled him with a fantastic story about how he had met his parents.

 He wasn’t quite sure whether he believed him – really, evil skeletons and cursed gold? – but it made for an incredible story. Plus, it had information on his parents in it.

His father, he’d learned, had been a blacksmith. And his mum the Governor’s daughter! He wondered if they returned to Port Royal, whether they’d have any money…

However, the best part was, he’d finally met his father.

He was everything Billy could ever have wished for.

He used to spend quite a lot of time when he was younger, trying to piece together an image of the man from the snippets of information his mother told him. He’d imagined him to be tall, and dashing. His mum would get a far away look in her eye every time she remembered him. Much like his neighbour Lucy would when she watched Thomas, the stable boy when he walked by. – He’d been told his father was “a good man”, so he imagined someone brave but stern. But that was pretty much it. He couldn’t seem to conjure anything else. Just a tall mysterious figure of his imagination.

The real thing proved to be completely different, but much better!

His father _was_ tall, and he _was_ dashing. But there was so much more, too. He was stern, but also kind and patient. He had a goatee and a gold earring in his left ear! When he laughed his eyes would crinkle up till you could barely see them, and his very white teeth would flash in a wide smile. When he was concentrating his whole brow would furrow furiously, and his lips would purse slightly. His hands were large and calloused, and would fall naturally to his hips, where he kept a sword. When Captain Jack riled him, he’d sometimes wave his arms and hands in large frustrated gestures, and his eyes would roll and his voice would go flat and dry. He told great stories, of his time with Captain Jack – the same ones with the cursed pirates and the Aztec gold, but also some new ones, with people called Davy Jones and Cutler Beckett.

And of an evening, sitting in the great cabin of the _Flying Dutchmen_ he’d tell Billy stories of when he was young and living in England. He’d tell him about his time in Port Royal, and about Billy’s mother.

Those were the moments that Billy absorbed every word he could, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t forget a single thing, a single moment of what he was being told.

The most exciting thing since meeting his father was going to come tomorrow, though. Tomorrow was going to be extra special.

Billy rolled over in his hammock, trying to get comfortable and calm the excited butterflies in his stomach.

Tomorrow he was going to practice sword fighting with his father.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swashbuckling action ahoy! Billy get's taught the importance of footwork. Jack and Will give him a practical demonstration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing of fencing/sword fighting save the very fundamentals - parry and lunge is pretty much it! – learn't when I took it for a week when I was 10. Needless to say that’s not very much. Thank the gods for Google!

"The Captain said you’re the best!"

Will blinked in surprise. "Did he now?" He glanced sidelong at where Jack stood, head bent in serious conversation with Bootstrap. "That's a very kind comment."

"He said you'd be upset with him teaching me, that you’d want to do it yourself, but that he was worried that we might run into some trouble and said I should know how to defend myself. So he only showed me the basics and said I should ask you to show me the rest. Especially footwork."

Will blinked and tried to process the rapid stream of words that galloped out of Billy’s mouth. He looked back over at Jack, who was now watching them, and quirked an eyebrow in question.

The pirate shrugged self-consciously. "I had to tell him something. He was pestering us all something fierce."

Will had to smother the grin that was threatening to appear. The notorious Captain Jack Sparrow cowed into submission by an eight year old boy. He looked down at Billy who was bouncing on the balls of his feet in his excitement, eyes wide and hopeful. "All right, grab your practise blade then."

The boy was gone before the sentence was fully out of his mouth.

Bootstrap laughed at the bewildered look on his son’s face, and clapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“Now this should be interesting, eh?”

Jack didn’t reply, his eyes fixed on Will as the younger man shrugged out of his waistcoat, leaving him only in a billowing white shirt. 

Jack gave a slight start, “Hmm? Oh. Yes, very interesting.”

Bill watched as Jack’s eyes inexorably slid back to his son, who’d accepted a cup of water from one of the crew with a thankful nod. He watched as Will’s eyes flicked up to meet Jack’s for a moment before hastily looking away.

Interesting indeed.

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
An hour into practice, and Billy was no longer bubbling over with excitement. Now he was looking downright downtrodden.  With a heavy exhalation of air, Billy glared down at the deck beneath his feet. “I'm never going to get this." 

"Don't worry. You’re doing really well actually; it just takes a lot of practice is all.” Will smiled at the sceptical look on the young boy’s face. “Now, lets try again. Left foot forward, then back, now switch! Good!" 

Billy sighed. "What's the point with all the footwork anyway! It's not like in a real fight you'd be using it!" 

"Ah, that's where you’re wrong lad! Footwork is one of the most useful and essential parts o’ fightin,’" lectured Jack from where he lay sprawled in the shade of the _Dutchman’s_ mizzenmast. "Loose your footing for a moment and the whole thing goes to pot!"

Will grinned at him over his shoulder and Jack felt his stomach do a slow roll in appreciation.

Billy was still frowning down at his feet and it was clear from his mulish expression that he didn't agree.

Bill Turner had obviously seen it too, because he chuckled lightly. "Perhaps a demonstration would help?"

Billy’s head snapped up so quick that Jack winced in sympathy. "Oh, please!"

Jack cocked his head to one side as if in consideration. "Well, William, think you’re still good enough to cross blades with a pirate?"

Will's grin was decidedly roguish, easily recognising the allusion back to their fight in Mr. Brown’s smithy, all those years ago. "I'd love to find out, Captain Sparrow."

Jack leapt up nimbly from his seat on the decking, quickly shedding his coat. Billy scampered quickly over to Bootstrap's side as the crew gathered to watch.

They stood opposite for a minute, each watching the other closely, blades ready but neither moving.

Jack gave the younger man opposite him a mischievous grin as he ran the length of his blade down Will’s. “This seems familiar, eh?”

Will didn’t even bother trying to hide his smirk. “That’s because you’ve threatened me before.”

Jack gave a happy bark of laughter. “Ah, but this time, you definitely know what your doing.” He winked at the other man as they swapped parries.

“Now,” said Jack, with a grin. “Pay attention, young Billy. If I step here,” Jack took a step to the right, watching as Will obligingly crossed left. “Very good…” their blades locked over their heads, “Now I step again.” –he swiftly beat Will’s blade to the side, before offering a quick advance and cut, then a counter parry to Will’s attack.

With a swift feint to the left, Jack spun, crowding Will’s space and forcing him to move backwards to trip over Jack’s out turned foot.  
Will landed on the decking hard with a solid “Oof”, before quickly rolling to his other side to avoid the incoming swing of the blade. “See!” Jack said triumphantly and with a swift glance to his captive audience. “Footwork!”

Will’s eyes narrowed as he re-gained his feet and they circled one another again.

Jack grinned and tsked sadly, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Have ye learned nothing that I taught ye William?”

Will’s expression turned fierce and he lunged suddenly, forcing Jack to counter-parry, before renewing his own attack.

Jack barely managed to catch Will’s advance, and he looked at the other man in alarm.

Will grinned ferociously, “Your getting slow in your old age, Jack.”

Jack glared at the younger man, before quickly masking his expression into nonchalance. “Darlin’, I’m just getting started.”

Their blades crossed with a metallic twang and with a deft twist of his wrist he dis-engaged. From there, they engaged in a quick conversation, each attacking and defending, whilst slowly Jack started to drive them towards the centre of the ship, hoping to crowd Will in.

They’d reached the mainmast, Will’s back connecting with the wood with a solid ‘ _thud’_ , and Jack was starting to grin triumphantly when Will suddenly disappeared.  
The split second hesitation of shock was enough for Will to re-emerge from the other side of the mast, spin deftly and lay his blade at the base of Jack’s throat.

Jack gaped at him. “You cheated!”

Will’s answering grin would be etched into Jack’s mind forever. “Pirate.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope you enjoyed that. (I admit it's another of my fav. chapters. It also practically wrote itself.) We're quickly coming to the edge of the map, mates! Only a few more chapters to go before we're in uncharted waters!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some introspective Will

 

Will watched his father teach his son a series of complicated sailors' knots. The two were seated on an out of the way patch of deck in the shade of the main mast, short lengths of rope in hand.  Billy was dutifully copying the older man's movements with exacting precision, his tongue firmly clamped between his teeth.

After several failed attempts, Billy finally held up a finished and passable reef knot with a crow of triumph. Will smiled.

Who would have known that a single day with Elizabeth all those years ago would result in this wonderful being?

He certainly hadn't expected it. It hadn't even entered his mind that Elizabeth would fall pregnant. From the moment he had become Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ he'd mournfully given up the idea of settling down to a normal life. Of being a husband. Of being a father.

It just wasn't feasible.

He'd said something along these line to Jack a few days earlier, who had levelled a very serious look at him and then thrown a companionable arm around his shoulder. "My dear William, how ever did you think children were created?"

Will had flushed an embarrassed shade of scarlet and spluttered his way through his proper meaning. "Don't be absurd! I know that! I just mean ~~'~~ t that I didn't ever expect to be a father! Besides, other couples try for years...."

He trailed off as Jack continued to grin at him in amusement.

Flustered, he'd thrown his hands up in an exasperated fashion and stormed off.

That was several days ago now and the time for Jack and Billy to leave was fast approaching. Tomorrow morning, the _Black Pearl_ and the _Flying Dutchman_ would part ways.

Will had tried to ignore the encroaching date, but as the days started to wind down, he'd become fidgety and restless. He could feel an increasingly urgent pull to sail and fulfil his duties to the dead, who were becoming impatient.

He'd managed to pacify them for a while - the dead, after all, do not have a firm grasp on the notion of time. Why should they, when they no longer held any use for it? All they knew was that they should be somewhere, and that somewhere was definitely not here.  Soon, however, the _Dutchman_ added her voice to the insistent chorus, and he knew they would have to leave, and leave soon.

He'd noticed that Jack had also become a bit restless.

Last week the older man had spent some time locked away in his cabin, refusing anyone else entry as he poured over navigational charts and heavens knew what else.

They hadn't spoken about the Spaniards that were after Jack. Not since that first night in the _Pearl's_ cabin. Will had tried to bring it up a time or two, but the other man had waved him off as easily as if he were batting away a fly.

If anything, that only made his guilt worse.

He knew, though, that he'd made the right decision. He couldn't risk tipping the balance of the world so soon after its restoration.

Will sighed as he watched Jack talk to one of his crew.

He would give almost anything to be able to go on another adventure with Jack. He'd missed the other man terribly in the intervening years. He hadn't really realised how much the pirate had become a firm fixture in his life until a few months after his Captaincy, when his absence became so apparent.

Typical of Captain Jack bloody Sparrow to barge his way into Will's life and then refuse to leave it, even when he wasn't physically there!

Will had found himself sharing fond stories with his father one night. Bill had listened to him prattle on with the patience of a saint, sipping from his tankard occasionally and nodding or adding comments when required.

"He's a good man, Jack Sparrow is," he'd said with conviction.

Will had smiled. "He'd hate to hear you saying that, however true. He seems to prefer his image as a dastardly rogue."

They'd fallen into an easy silence. Bill had kept staring at him, and eventually Will asked what he was thinking.

After dissembling for a few minutes, Bill had finally answered. "It's just, I think I've heard you talk more about Jack over the last few days, then you have about Elizabeth."

Will had given a start and blinked at his father. Silently he replayed the conversations they'd had and realised with not a small amount of shame, that Bill was correct. Will huffed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Bloody pirate." he'd mumbled, a slight flush suffusing his cheeks. "He's even commandeering my conversations now!"

Bill just gave him a small smile and refilled Will's tankard. 

The truth, Will forced himself to acknowledge, was that his lack of talk about Elizabeth was probably an accurate reflection of his feelings.

After becoming Captain, he'd tried to stop thinking of her so actively. It hurt too much to think of the wonderfully vibrant and wild Mrs. Turner when he wasn't there to witness it first hand. And that he wouldn't be there again for many, many years.

Though it hadn't in any way been a conscious thought or decision, he realised that their coupling on the beach that final day had been as a goodbye.

He had loved her, and he still did, but not as he once had. Now it was with the soft fondness and respect rather than the burning, all consuming longing and yearning that had plagued the majority of his existence. He also missed her. How could he not when she had been his friend, confidante and world for so long? But it was the feeling of missing something unattainable. A faint twinge that could easily be brushed aside.

It upset him to learn that she hadn't written a letter. He realised that she probably harboured no small amount of resentment towards him, but he thought of her fondly. Will realised that in all likelihood his absence had been the cause of much grief and strife - he couldn't imagine how she'd managed to raise such a mature, kind and adventurous child like Billy all on her own. It was a testament to her own strength, of that he was sure.

He had written a letter for Billy to take back with him.

Last night he'd stayed up into the small hours of morning, waiting for the revered hush that descended in that special time and had put pen to parchment and let his thoughts and well wishes flow. In it he wrote a brief report on Billy's time onboard - he was sure the boy would be more than happy to fill her in on anything he had missed. - and then outpoured all the thoughts and feelings he'd held since their last meeting. He told her that he hoped she was happy, or that she would find happiness soon.

Billy had told him about a man from the local village who would come by on occasion for tea, and would help with general maintenance about the house.  A blacksmith. Will couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation. He figured it was probably the world's way of trying to set things right. He told Elizabeth as much in his letter, assuring her that he would not blame her, not in the slightest, and that if it brought her happiness then that was all he could wish for.

He wrote that he hoped to meet her and Billy when his first term was served, for though he no longer held the depth of feeling he once had, she would always be close to his heart.  
The letter was signed and sealed now, and placed with the rest of Billy's things on board the _Pearl_ , ready for departure.  Will stirred himself from his morose imaginings and resolved that he would enjoy the remaining time he had with his son.

At least, he consoled himself, now that they'd met their next meeting was sure to be even more joyous.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: fond farewells.
> 
> A/N2: I realise the above sounds like the story is winding down. I promise you, you will not be disappointed. ;)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack returns Billy home, but not all is as it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains CHARACTER DEATH. I warned you back in the prologue that it'd be in here, and now it's here. You were warned!

****The day dawned bright and clear when Billy was to return home after his long adventure away. The morning sun shone down happily upon the small island community where Elizabeth and Billy had made their home, and the grass upon the hillside waved a welcome at the weary travelers.

They dropped anchor off shore and Billy was practically hopping up and down, running about the deck and helping where and when he could, and the crew smiled tolerantly at his excited chatter until Jack finally had to pull him out from under foot. 

A dinghy was lowered, and with it, Jack, Billy, Mr. Gibbs and four crewman made their way towards the shore.

"Look! Look! There she is!!!" Billy waved frantically at the form of Elizabeth, who made her way slowly down the grassy slope. She waved back with just as much exuberance.

Jack tugged the young boy impatiently back into his seat. "Oi! Sit down! You wanna tip us all into the drink?"

Billy seemed impervious to his annoyed grumbling, his eyes riveted to the form of his mother.

They hit the shallows, and jumped out - Billy with an enthusiastic crow - and just like that, he was off, racing away towards his mother.

Jack was following at a more sedate pace when he became aware that something was _wrong_.

As a pirate and a sailor, one learned quickly that instincts are a very important thing to listen to, and many a time an unnerved feeling or a fluttering in his gut had saved him from death's frigid clutches. And so when the feeling appeared, Jack was disturbed.

He scanned the shore, eyes quick and fleeting, hand placed on the pistol at his side, whilst his companions remained oblivious. He moved forward, eyes still searching for the source of his unquiet.

It was as Billy ran towards the copse of trees that separated him from Elizabeth, that Jack spotted the figures too late.

An ambush.

They had walked straight into an ambush.

Elizabeth has now spotted the men hidden in the brush as well, and with a frantic cry she raced towards them.

Billy screeched to a halt and stared at the men who appeared out of nowhere in front of him, and Jack raised his pistol desperately.

The echoing retort of a single shot echoed endlessly and time seemed to stop.

Billy fell, unmoving, to the ground.

Elizabeth screamed, a gutwrenching, all-consuming animalistic sound, and chaos erupted.

Jack shot the blackguard seconds after the man fired, but it was too late. He was too late.  Furious both with himself and at the men before him, he drew a second pistol, firing with deadly accuracy, and managed to drop four of the swine in the opening minutes.

There were twelve of them, and Gibbs and the crewmen unsheathed their cutlasses and pitols both, firing and slashing. From somewhere far behind, Jack could hear his crew scuttling about on the _Pearl,_ to try and come to their aid.

He dropped a pistol as it jammed, and with a ring of thirsty metal, unsheathed the sabre to deliver bloody death to the men running towards him, determined to make his way forward.  

He hacked and slashed, weaved and dodged, until finally he makes it, and he leaves the remaining men to the capable hands of his crew. Behind him, the echoing _boom_ of the _Black Pearl’s_ cannons ring out and a shot strikes the ground not far to his left.

Elizabeth had reached Billy, dropping to her knees in the sandy soil as she picked him up with trembling hands, pushing back his hair and cupping his face, oblivious to the danger around her as she frantically called his name.

"No, no, no, no, no!!! Baby, please..."

The boy was breathing harshly, eyes wide and Jack could see what the emotions of the woman in front of him could not. The shot had hit the boy square in the chest, and at the close range from which it'd been fired, the accuracy of the shot was unerringly precise. There was a large bloody stain growing on the front of Billy's white shirt, and he _knew._

Elizabeth was screaming and sobbing, cursing and praying and begging, rocking the form of her son back and forth in her arms as her hands frantically tried to stem the flow of blood. _  
_

Jack was frozen to the spot. He could do nothing but stare at the scene before him. He was a pirate, and therefore has been witness to countless scenes of bloodshed and misery, but this...

This was failure.

This was grief.

He could hear his heart beating loudly in his ears as his blood rushed through his body, trembling anxiety sending it flying in its circuit from head to toe. Painted eyes fell steadily shut in defeat, and his head fell forward to look at the blood-splattered ground at his feet.

Wait...

Ground.

They were on solid ground.

What little breath Jack had left escaped like a sucker-punch to his gut, as Jack looked from the ground beneath his feet, to the calmly lapping waves not twenty meters away from where Billy fell...

Elizabeth sobbed brokenly and Jack dropped to her side. He stiffly pulled her in the direction of the waves, calling her name.

“Elizabeth!”  She lashed out at him with angry fists, yelling and screaming at him, before he caught a flailing limb.

“Elizabeth, the sea. We have to get him to the water!”

She stared for a moment unseeing, before comprehension sunk in. “Hold on, Will. Just hold on, sweetie!”

Jack was already gathering the boy into his arms, tucking him against his chest and trying to ignore the seeping warmth coming from the small figure.

“Stay with me lad! Come on!”

Billy blinked at him groggily and Jack thinks he hears a whispered “aye captain”, but he can’t be sure, because he is running. The shifting of sand underneath his boots slows his progress but he pushes on determinedly, legs pumping furiously, running faster than he’s ever run before. Elizabeth was behind him – he could hear her gasping gulps of breath and muttered prayers – but all of his focus was on the lapping turquoise waves ahead.

Five meters, and the sand was getting firmer under his feet and he put on an extra burst of speed.

He threw himself into the shallows and heard the echoing splash of Elizabeth behind him. He went to his knees, a shaking hand brushing back the hair from the young face. “Come on…. Are ye with me, lad?”

A blank gaze met his and Jack didn't have to feel for a pulse to know that the boy was gone.

He let Elizabeth gather Billy back into her arms, and watched the bloodied water lap around them.

A hint of moisture ran down his face, and with a start, Jack realised he was crying.

Far out over the open water, the wind whipped up the surf, and a rumble of thunder warned of a coming storm...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC
> 
> Um... I'm just going to go run hide now!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

  
They committed Billy's body to the ocean, knowing as they did that there was no hope of tenure upon the _Dutchman_ for the young boy. No way for father and son to be re-united in death. They committed only a shell to the ocean, but still they hoped that in this small act they might give Will some comfort.  
Jack yelled and cursed them soundly the entire time, disagreeing vehemently, but he helped with the preparations nonetheless.  
Elizabeth mutely carried out the act, shrouding her son lovingly with hand-embroidered blankets. The silent slippage of tears down her face were the only permissible signs of her final grief.  
With a final kiss to his covered brow, Elizabeth said goodbye to her only son, and the life she had so desperately wanted.  
Two sailors solemnly lifted the small body over the railing of the _Black Pearl,_ and released him into the sea.  
Jack watched it all with a detached formality, wrapping a bracing arm around Elizabeth's shoulders. Together, they watched the shrouded form slip deeper into the ocean's depths, and finally out of sight.  
The crew stood silent, hats removed and faces pained, as they said goodbye to the boy they had so recently come to know.  
The malaise broke, and they slowly flitted off, one by one, to continue their duties and leave their captain and the boy's mother to their silent vigil.  
A light breeze blew, and the sun sparkled enticingly off the cobalt waters, casting dancing luminescent streaks to dazzle the eyes. The serene beauty of the Caribbean was disgustingly at odds to the turbulent emotions within, and most averted their gaze from the scenery.  
"I can’t stay here. I don’t want to stay here anymore, Jack."  
It was no more than a broken whisper, but the pirate heard the truth in the statement. He turned to look at the woman standing at his side.  
Elizabeth's eyes swum with unshed tears and the fractured remnants of emotion held repressively tight. She swallowed, running a hand over her plain skirt in a halfhearted gesture of neatness, and took a deep calming breath before she continued.  
"There's nothing left for me here, and this… childish need for adventure has proven quite the opposite of what I had hoped." There was a faint, fleeting quirk of a smile, but it did not reach her eyes. "I’m going back to England. Will you take me to the nearest port?"  
Jack watched her silently, unable to respond. With a dip of his head that was half bow and half nod he signalled his acquiescence.  
Elizabeth gave a tight sharp nod in return.  
And that was that.  
Neither one of them mentioned Will.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know. Stay tuned though, I've got an Elizabeth POV interlude coming up next and then we get to see Will. (Dun dun duh!)


	16. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look back into Elizabeth's time since the end of AWE.

~*~*~*~*~

Interlude: Elizabeth

~*~*~*~*~

   
Elizabeth Turner, nee Swann, was not a fool.  
   
There was a reason why she hadn’t told Billy more about his father. She knew that Will would be furious with her if he ever found out what she’d told their son. It was too similar to what Will’s own mother had told him when he was a boy, and those stories had caused too much pain for Will to ever be comfortable with them.  
   
However, Will wasn’t here, so Elizabeth did what she had to.  
   
She felt a melancholic empathy for Will’s late mother. She understood the other woman’s actions now more than she ever had before.  
   
Life was not easy.  
   
Never, in all her younger years, had Elizabeth ever imagined her life would turn out how it was now. She used to lie in her bedroom in Port Royal and dream of wild adventures and a passionate romance. In fairness, she’d gotten what she asked for, but never in all her life had she imagined it to end like this.  
   
The first few years had been brutal, but manageable. When Will had sailed off into the sunset, she’d been left with nothing but a feeling of desperate anxiety, and her lover’s heart in a heavy silver chest.  
   
Her father was dead, and his accounts and estate retaken by the government. A new family now lived in the house on the hill in Port Royal and there were no friends to prevail upon – society was cold and ruthless to those who found themselves disgraced and out of favour.  
   
In many ways, she was glad that life was behind her now. Other days she would fervently wish to have that life again if for nothing else than the well-known consistency it provided.  
   
It was then that she’d moved to the little-known island, drawn by the prospect of a fresh start and a quiet life. She’d had nothing with her when she’d first arrived– no clothes, no money, and no prospects. The residents of the island had warily accepted her, mysterious as she was. She’d earned her keep for a few months at the local tavern and around the town doing small odds and ends, until she managed to save enough to buy a small cottage at the very edge of town. It’d been long and hard work, but pleasant enough, distracting her as it did from Will’s absence.  
   
Never before had she known the hard work involved in the minutiae of daily life. She’d not been cowed, however. Instead, she relished the challenge it presented. In those weeks she’d quickly learned how spoiled she’d been as a Governor’s daughter.  
   
At night she would return home to her small and humble abode, make a spare but filling meal and then sit before the fire, Will’s chest sitting in a spindly chair opposite her as she’d fill him in on the events of her day.

She wondered whether she should be more concerned that she was talking to what was by and large, an inanimate object. She knew Will couldn’t really hear her stories, but talking out loud had helped soothe the loneliness.  
   
That had changed quickly when she found out she was pregnant.  
   
She had been flooded with emotion at the news; joy, excitement, wonder, sadness, anxiety, fear …  
   
Those months had been some of the hardest of her life. Her growing girth meant she could not work the same hours she had before and she’d had to prevail more and more on the kindness of her neighbours to get by.

When her stomach was too large to hide any longer, the offers of help had dwindled dramatically as tongues began to wag viciously.  
   
Determined, Elizabeth had gone into the market one morning and pointedly conversed with Mrs Taylor where she was sure to be overheard about her husband’s work at sea – highly edited of course. The scandalous gossip had receded for a while then, as the newest piece of information spread. However as the months went by and the seasons changed, and still no husband appeared, Elizabeth once again found herself the talk of town.  
   
She’d been so desperately unhappy in those days, fearful of her ability to provide not only for herself but also for the little one growing inside of her. If it hadn’t been for the charity of the elderly Mrs Kelly and the widowed Mr Edwards, Elizabeth wasn’t sure if she would have made it.  
   
Mrs Kelly was a tough woman bowed nearly in half by age, and with a wizened face. She’d taken one look at Elizabeth’s protruding belly, tear stained face and threadbare shawl and had pursed her lips formidably. She’d tucked a silvered piece of hair behind her ear with an age gnarled hand, and with a small “Hmf” had beckoned Elizabeth into her home where she’d plied the younger woman with hot, sweet tea and then proceeded to give Elizabeth clothing.  
   
Elizabeth had been touched by such generosity, but had declined the offer. The older woman had waved off her feeble attempts with ferocity. “Ridiculous!” She barked, “My daughter has left for her own life so what use do I have for such clutter? Take them or I’ll be throwing them into the sea to keep the fish warm!”  
   
Needless to say, Elizabeth had taken her up on her offer.  
   
Mr Edwards was a recently widowed gentleman who ran the local farrier. He was a tall and gruff looking man, with a large barrelled chest and thickset arms. His eyes were somber but kind, and when he did speak – which was rarely - it was with a calm and soothing tone.  
   
Elizabeth had woken one morning to the steady rat-a-tat-tat of a hammer. When she’d ventured out into the early morning light, Mr Edwards had lifted his cap to her before he continued to fix the shingles on her roof.  
   
Elizabeth had shaken her head and wondered bemusedly at the twisting of fate - she seemed to be constantly drawn to smiths.  
   
In those late days of her pregnancy her attention had shifted from Will’s chest. It still sat on the chair near the fire, but now Elizabeth would speak down to her unborn child, telling him – and she was sure it was a boy, – about her adventures on the high seas.  
   
The first few years of Billy’s life had been miraculous. Elizabeth had found a new purpose in life and had happily spent her days looking after her son.  
   
Life had continued fairly peacefully then. A rhythm had been established.  Elizabeth and her son were by no means popular in town, but they were tolerated. Most would at least wait till they were out of earshot before tittering behind cupped hands, at least.  
   
Mrs Kelly and Mr Edwards had remained staunch allies, and a few others – Mr and Mrs Cox, the local baker and his wife, and the Munroe family – had also become (grudging) accomplices.  
   
When Billy was six, he’d come running home one night, knees scraped raw and tears on his face.  
   
Elizabeth had asked him what was wrong and the boy had tearfully admitted that the other children in town had called him names and said nasty things about her and his father.  
   
“They said that I don’t have a father and they also say that you’re a liar!” he’d sniffed, eyes large and watery.  
   
Elizabeth had felt her heart clench in pain then, looking down at her distraught son. She’d gathered him up into her arms as he’d sobbed brokenly into her blouse, and felt her own tears threatening.

She’d glared then at Will’s chest, sitting innocently on the opposite chair.  
   
And she made her choice.  
   
She rocked her son in her arms and told him. She told him that some people would never understand and would always say nasty things. That he had to be a big boy and better than they and ignore their hurtful words, for they were badly misinformed. She told him about his father, an honest and hard working merchant sailor who loved them, but was very busy.  
   
Later that night, after she’d tucked Billy into bed, she went into the living room and threw a sheet over the chest. She pried loose some floorboards and dug a hole in the dirt beneath. She wiped angry tears from her face as she put the chest in the newly made hole, the floorboards back into place and then swept the floor clean.  
   
Then, she walked away and pretended not to hear the steady _tha-thump_ of Will’s heart. 

~*~


	17. Chapter 17

  
   
The still waters of the in-between reflected the myriad of stars caught far above in the inky blackness of the sky in a breathtaking and awe-inspiring vision.  
   
With preternatural stillness the _Dutchman_ sat and waited for those caught neither here nor there, and the small boats that were to come.  
   
A cry was raised as one such boat was seen, prow cutting through the water effortlessly, but the lantern upon its prow extinguished.  
   
Murmurs of confusion and discussion filled the air with sound, voices hushed with whispered words in deference to their location. The crew stood by the rail and watched the small boat's progress, waiting for the moment when they might glimpse the boat's occupant, and the moment where all their questions might be answered.  
   
Soon enough, the boat was within easy distance and a shocked hush fell upon the crew.  
   
Will watched the approach of the tiny boat carrying the body of his son with disbelief. His breath  caught, and he felt sure that if it were still within his body, his heart would have stopped at the sight.  
   
"Billy?"  
   
His question, tremulous and broken, snapped the man at his side out of his stupor. His father turned to look at him, and laid a heavy, consoling hand upon his shoulder. "Will," he said, and in that single word was the most excruciating sympathy. Will could not bear to look him in the eye.  
   
The shock wore off, and for a moment, the torrential maelstrom of emotion was more than he could bear, and he wished the shock could have stayed longer. "No." He breathed, shaking the hand off roughly. It came out as a whisper, so he repeated it and noticed that it grew stronger. "No. No!" He raced to the gunwale, "Billy!"  
   
There was no response from the figure lying prone in the boat. It continued to float tantalizingly close to the _Dutchman's_ side.  
   
"Billy!"  
   
He was climbing down, limbs moving, desperately reaching, and he was close, so close, before strong hands  pulled him back onto the ship. His ship.  
   
He snarled and fought them, unseeing and uncaring, a desperation he had never known fueling him and lending him a strength he never knew he had. He bit, clawed and scratched at the arms that were holding him back, relentlessly trying to move forward, calling continuously for his son.  
   
More hands and arms join the first, and he was reluctantly over-powered, and forced to the aged deck.  
   
"Will!"  
   
He came back to himself with a start, and gazed into the worried face opposite him. His limbs were suddenly freed from the need that drove them, and they dropped leadenly to his sides. He panted, and looked at the face, searching for something he could not name.  
   
Bootstrap's hand was framing one side of his face, smoothing his hair and cupping his chin, the attempt at comfort awkward, but consoling nonetheless. The man smiled a sad smile at him and gripped his shoulder bracingly.  
   
"He's gone, Will. I'm so sorry, but he's gone. He's beyond our reach now."  
   
Will stared around him without seeing, and he distractedly noted that his hands - usually so steady and confident - were trembling. He was gasping big gulps of air and couldn't seem to make himself stop.  
   
It was only a few minutes later that his brain caught up to what his father had said...  
   
 _He's beyond our reach..._ **our** _reach_...  
   
He met his father's gaze and the man frowned in concern at the fevered light that  he saw in his eyes. Before he could comment, Will was up on his feet once more, heading for the helm of the _Dutchman_ and Bill quickly followed.  
   
Will took the stairs up two at a time and his scream pierced the night.  
   
"CALYPSO!!!"  
   
Bill Turner blinked in shock, and he turned briefly to see the rest of the crew standing frozen, watching them intently. He swallowed and shook his head, moving closer to his son, who was pacing across the decking like a caged beast.  
   
"Will..."  
   
Will ignoreed him, and called again, "CALYPSO!"  
   
There was no answer. The stars continued to twinkle merrily above them, and there was not a sound to be heard in the still waters.  
   
"CALYPSO!"  
   
Bill moved to grab his son once more, but Will determinedly shook him off, cursing him as he did so.  
   
"William."  
   
Together they whirled about to stare.  
   
From the shadows at the stern, a woman  appeared from seemingly nowhere, and Bill blinked and tried to figure out just what was happening. With skin as dark as night, she stood in peculiar garb, hair a chaotic tumble about her face, and her eyes soft and sad.  
   
Will strode towards her, and she opened her arms to embrace him. She clutched him to her breast and murmured soft consoling words that Bill could not hear.  
   
Will trembled in her grasp, and he pulled back to look at her. She stroked his face and wiped away the errant tears that tried to escape down his face.  
   
"Please," Will said, and Bill felt something in him clench at the broken and pleading sound coming from his son. "Please, you have to bring him back!"  
   
The woman sadly shook her head. "I cannot..."  
   
"Please, you have to!!!"  
   
Her heavily accented voice was sorrowful, but firm. "I cannot, William."  
   
"But Barbossa -"  
   
"Barbossa was a different matter. And he died in my domain. Young William did not... I am sorry, but I cannot change these things."  
   
It seemed then, that the fight suddenly left Will, and he fell slowly to his knees upon the deck. The woman followed him down and stroked his hair.  
   
Bill watched as a tear slowly formed on the woman's cheek, before rolling down her face to fall upon the deck. A shudder seemed to go through the ship, and a breeze slowly stirred the air about them. With a fearful and awe-filled gaze, Bootstrap watched as the water around them started to churn. The crew were also watching the water, and they shifted and murmured restlessly, fearfully.  
   
When he finally turned back, there was a dark shadow in Will's eyes that made Bootstrap nervous, and he cautiously shifted his weight, preparing for something unknown.  
   
Will looked at the woman and his face and voice were stern and dark when he asked, "Do you know how?"  
   
Bill's gaze flicked to the woman, and he saw the answer there as clearly as Will did.  
   
"Tell me how."  
   
   
~*~*~*~

  
"William," The goddess's accented voice was gentle as she looked at him, her dark eyes mournful.  
   
Will didn't hear her. He stood staring at nothing, the dark timber deck lurching under his feet with the large rolling waves. Distantly he was aware of a strong wind rattling the rigging, and of his crew watching him silently as if waiting for something.  
   
A gull cried out, far overhead, above the mast and something within him seemed to shudder and crack with that dreadful sound.  
   
"No," he breathed, and Calypso's gaze was filled with pity.  
   
"Will-"  
   
All of a sudden a burning rage flooded him and his vision narrowed. He grabbed the shoulders of the woman before him and threw her hard against the rail, pinning her there with his weight. Calypso's eyes widened slightly in shock - or maybe it was fear - and the crew gave a collective gasp. A few, including Bootstrap made a half stilted movement - as if they meant to step forward or pull him back, but they stopped before reaching him.  
   
"Bring him back!"  
   
Calypso continued to gaze at Will, her voice was unbearably soothing and understanding. "I cannot."  
   
A noise emerged from his throat, something between a growl and a moan, twisted and terrible, and his hands tightened on the goddess's shoulders, fingers indenting into the soft flesh beneath.   
   
"You are a goddess. Now Bring. Him. Back."  
   
Calypso stared deep into Will's eyes, and whatever she saw there seemed to answer some unspoken question. She shook her head.  
   
"I'm sorry William. He didn't die at sea. He is outside of my domain."  
   
And with a sigh like an oncoming wave, she flowed out of his grip, and disappeared once more.  
   
Will was left staring at the empty spot, his hands clenching at empty air. There was a roaring sound in his head which grew, and grew, plunging him suddenly into silence. At some point his eyes must have fallen shut, and he could feel a cold creeping steadily along his limbs. As if echoing from far, far away, was the steady drumming of his heartbeat setting a slow and terrible rhythm.  
   
Will took a long, deep breath.  
   
And opened his eyes.

  
~*~*~*~*~*~

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tortuga.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Drug use.

Tortuga was packed with people. More than usual, that was.  
   
Ships of all shapes and purposes were crammed into the narrow harbour, and men flooded the numerous pubs and houses whilst the gale outside continued to rage.  
   
Joshamee Gibbs sat at a crowded table, a mug of ale in one hand, and listened to the chatter.  
   
"Did ye hear they’re offerin' eighty doubloons a man to ship supplies to Haiti?"  
   
"Eighty doubloons?!"  
   
"No sailor worth his salt would sail in this weather, regardless o' price!"  
   
"Aye, I heard the _Scottish Rose_ went down nigh four nights ago an’ all hundred souls with her."  
   
There was a hushed murmur of prayer and a few, including Gibbs, crossed themselves hurriedly.  
   
"It ain't right!" muttered a great hulking brute of a man, his scarred face shaking from side to side gravely. "Ain't natural. This storm shoulda run itself out by now, or least blown on over the mainland. Instead it's just sittin' ovah the ocean like a hulking beast!"  
   
Another nodded gravely. "A month! A whole month of tearing rain, cyclonic winds an' angry seas! An' not a ship that sets sail ever returns the way I hear it!"  
   
Angry seas indeed, thought Gibbs, taking a large mouthful of ale.  
   
“Ye fool! Ain't no beast! Haven't ye heard the tales? They say the _Flying Dutchman_ is sailing again - that Davy Jones has returned and he's worse than e’er afore!"  
   
Gibbs choked on the drink he just took and several pairs of eyes swung round to look at him curiously.  
   
"Way I hear it," said a narrow-eyed rake of a man. "You had some dealin's with Jones afore. What do ye say, Gibbs, yer the one sailing with that cracked Jack Sparrow!"  
   
"Now ye mind yer own business, Ferny! And tha's Capt'n Sparrow to ye, and a better man and sailor than twelve o' your Capt’n Plummers!"  
   
There were a few guffaws and mutters of agreement.  
   
Ferny’s smile was sharp and filled with too many teeth. "Ye never could lie very well Gibbs. An’ yer not one to usually hold back from a tale. You know something about this storm, don't ye? I think its only fair that ye share with us - seeing as we are all put out o’ work… as it were."  
   
Damn him to hell, he never had liked Ferny, too sharp by far for comfort. Gibbs took another long draught of ale and licked his lips nervously.  
   
"Alright. I'll tell ye some but I don't know all o’ it. What I do know is it ain't Jones. Jones is dead an gone -."  
   
“Then who is it?”  
   
"I heard it's God himself, come to punish us sinners!"  
   
"God? HA! Ye got it wrong - I heard it's death himself stalking the waves in the guise o' a man, an' he carries a sword perpetually stained with blood!"  
   
"I heard it's a ghost - pale an see through, like. An' his coming is like the bitterest cold ye e’er did feel! Freezes a man solid! An then a pair of hellish eyes appear an ye know no more!"  
   
"I ‘eard similar, but that it's the ghost of a man who lost his love in a Spanish raid. He ransacks every galleon that gets in his way and a few who don't to slake his blood thirst."  
   
Gibbs huffed and glared all of them into silence. "If ye'd just listen I'd tell ye!" the table - and indeed most of the tavern fell silent, drawn into the conversation by the raised voices and subject.  
   
"His name." Gibbs started importantly, "is William Turner. An' he's the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_..."  
   
   
~*~*~  
   
He flicked the compass lid open then closed with one hand, more habit than actual curiosity, staring at the revolving needle through glazed eyes.  
   
He both knew and didn't know what he wanted.  
   
Eventually the compass pointed to the little ball of black sitting upon the side table next to him.  
   
Oblivion.  
   
It was the closest thing he had right now. His actual desires seemed far removed from his reach.  
   
Suddenly immortality  looked disgustingly bleak...  
   
Looking up unseeing at the rafters above, he breathed out a heavy ponderous breath and watched as the blue-tinged smoke curled and undulated in unseen currents with mesmerizing intensity.  
   
He wished not for the first time that he was in Singapore. He should be in Singapore. Tortuga had its share of dens, but for the really good stuff, you couldn’t beat Singapore…  
   
In the flickering light, he could see fantastic forms dancing amongst the smoke, twirling, fighting, dying, loving, embracing...  
   
Resting his head on the brocade couch beneath him, his eyes closed slowly and he stared at the black for a moment before he forced them open once more. His heart beat a slow methodical tempo, like the ever-present crashing of waves upon a sandy shore. Steady and slow.  
   
In rushes, the water came in with a comforting, susurrant whisper.  
   
Out it flowed into the deep; a cautious exhalation.  
   
Time stretched and compacted in that tiny moment between one breath and the next, and the air was heavy with the _waiting ..._  
   
And then, reliably, the water tumbled up and over, in and around. Lapping, soothing, foaming, churning...  
   
In...  
   
Out...  
   
In...  
   
A pause.  
   
Out...  
   
His breathing had unintentionally matched the cadence he hears within his head. With another pull upon the long stemmed pipe, he achieved what he sought.  
   
For once, the voices and recriminations were utterly silent, and all that is and will be, was the steady crashing of waves upon a distant shore.  
   
Jack Sparrow embraced oblivion.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill Turner has to do something.

Bill Turner knew he had to do something.  
   
 And soon.  
   
 Things were falling into an all too familiar pattern.  
   
 He sighed and scrubbed his face with a rough hand. Since Will’s captaincy of the _Flying Dutchman_ there would usually be conversation here and there, someone might sing a song or two, and a game of cards would take place amidst raucous chatter. Things were comfortable. The work was hard, but rewarding, and the men were happy. That, however, was before.  
   
Now, well...  
   
Now the crew were quiet and cowed, steadily continuing on with their work. Eyes would dart cautiously towards the solid timber that hid the _Dutchman_ ’s captain. Any and all talk was conveyed in a quiet murmur, hardly heard above the sound of the crashing surf.  
   
He sighed again as his own gaze fell on those oak doors. He understood that Will was upset- truly he did, and quite understandably too - but this was just so wrong. This, this anger wasn’t Will.  
   
He'd tried to talk to Will. To be there for him in his grief, but he’d been pushed away. Any and all headway they'd made in repairing their fractured relationship had been dashed like waves on the shore. When he'd angrily pushed back, hoping to spark something - some semblance of what Will used to be - Will's face had grown frighteningly still and his eyes had narrowed in warning. "You want to be careful in how you address me, sailor. You are not indispensable and I am not above sending you to the locker for your cheek."  
   
The crew had stood motionless, watching as Bill had reared back as if struck. Will had stood silent, gaze unwavering, staring him down. Finally Bill had given a tight nod, his voice coming out as little more than a whisper. "Aye, captain."  
   
Will had turned on his heel sharply, and returned to his cabin, a snarled, "Back to your posts!" It was the only other thing he'd said before the oak doors had slammed shut behind him.  
   
It had been two weeks since then, and things had progressively got worse. Will had only emerged sparingly, usually to give a new heading or when the dreaded cry ran out.  
   
Just as he was thinking it, the words passed the mouth of one of the crew, piercing the still night air.  
   
"Sail ho!"  
   
The Dutchman gave a tormented groan of wood as she came about, lining her up with the smaller merchant ship scurrying before her.  
   
The cabin doors opened and the Captain stepped out, stride confident and purposeful. He made his way aft, picking up a glass on his way. Eyeing the other ship fleetingly, he discarded the glass before taking charge of the wheel. And then he spoke.  
   
"Run out the guns."

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet our villain. Just who is this Spaniard Jack is so afraid of?

  
Capitan Fernando Alvarez was not a patient man by nature. However, as with all things there were certain exceptions to the rule. Fernando Alvarez's exception to the rule, was revenge.  
   
Oh, yes, Alvarez was definitely a disciple of that adage ‘revenge is a dish best served cold’.  
   
It had been twenty-three years since his comfortable life in Cartagena had been ripped out from under him. And all thanks to that _gilipollas_ Jack Sparrow.  
   
Alvarez's gaze swept over the small painted portrait ~~,~~ which rested on his desk. The woman in the portrait had honeyed curls ~~,~~ pulled back from her face , displaying a long graceful neck. His dear, sweet Margarita. His beloved, and beautiful sister. Oh, how he missed her.  
   
To this day he was saddened about her death. Her disgrace had brought dishonour and damnation on his house, and as an Alvarez, he could not allow such a thing to happen. She'd be punished for her sins. He could only hope that the Lord would forgive her as well.   
   
Yes, Fernando Alvarez had been waiting for twenty-three years to exact his revenge on Jack Sparrow, and it looked like he was going to finally get his chance.  
   
Word had it that Jack Sparrow had finally stopped running. The _Black Pearl_ had been sighted in Tortuga.   
   
Alvarez surveyed the chart before him, carefully calculating. It would take some time to reach Tortuga. Their detour to the island where the boy lived had cost them time, but it had been worth it.  
   
He hadn’t known about the boy at all until he’d seen the _Pearl_ sail there a few months ago.  
   
He didn’t know who the young woman was, nor did he really care. He assumed it was yet another poor unfortunate who had fallen under the man’s sway. In many ways, the woman should be thanking him. Now she’d no longer be tethered to that spit of land by Sparrow’s bastard child. She’d have a future again.  
   
There was a knock on the door to the cabin, and a large, muscled man entered. "Do we have our heading, señor?"   
   
Alvarez ignored his first mate, continuing to stare at the map in front of him. "Tell the crew we are going to Tortuga."   
   
"With all due respect, Capitan, the weather outside..." Carlos gestured out the tinted glass at the pounding surf and whipping wind in the sheltered bay. In the distance soaring crests of foam smashed into the heads with extreme violence. "Would it not be better to ride it out here? We risk much in trying to get to Tortuga in this. And Tortuga is not the friendliest of ports for a galleon."  
   
Standing to his full height, Alvarez turned slowly on a heel. Carlos straightened, and from across the room, Alvarez could see the thick muscles in his arms bunched with tension. A slow smirk played at the corner of his lips. "I am sick of waiting."   
   
Carlos gulped and bobbed his head in a nod. His hand rested on the blade at his side and he offered a short sharp salute, before disappearing from the cabin.   
   
Alvarez took a deep breath, savouring the curling tendrils of anticipation. He allowed himself a grin.   
   
He'd been waiting this long.  He could afford to wait a few more days till they reached Tortuga.   
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: Short chapter this week, but hopefully a few more questions have now been answered!
> 
> Till next time!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill goes to Tortuga to put his plan into action.

  
Bill closed his eyes and followed the familiar tug. He was falling, and then a bitter cold enveloped him as he rushed through what felt like endless abyss. Abruptly he slowed in speed and a stretching pull made him squeeze his eyes tight. When he opened them again he let out a sigh of relief and set foot on the _Black Pearl_ 's familiar decking, brushing himself off roughly.  
   
He hated the insubstantial feeling walking through wood left but it was easier than the usual means.  
   
He looked about the quiet cabin, and frowning thoughtfully made his way topside. The large ship was creaking distressingly as she rocked violently on her moorings, straining the ties which held her to the dock. Nary a soul was on board - not even a watchman- and Bill felt a mixture of distress at the change and annoyance at the inconvenience.  
   
The wind whipped saltwater and hair into his face and he looked out over the savage sea to the crowded confines of Tortuga, the lights twinkling an innocent, civilised welcome. With a huff he started out for the mainland. He'd been fastened to a cannon at the bottom of the ocean for years, but he'd be damned if he didn't remember the best rum houses in Tortuga!  
   
It was with relief that he stepped out onto the solid fixture of the wharf after the violent tossing of the sea. He stumbled and lurched the first few steps, trying to recenter his balance but eventually managed.  
   
He checked _The Dogs Bone_ first. Then the _Happy Hen_ and _Madame Wilkins_  - where he was waylaid for a short time by pouting rouged lips which tried to entice him to stay a while longer. He managed to extract himself after many promises to return at a later date, and a few gropes. It had, after all, been a _long_ time.    
   
He was growing desperate when he checked _The Faithful Bride_ , but he'd saved it for last, knowing it to be the most likely of candidates. He was sorely disappointed.   
   
Inside, the establishment was filled with unwashed bodies and the buzzing of drunken voices. Pushing his way through the crowd he scanned the shadowy corner booths which his prey usually frequented. He turned to leave when a vaguely familiar bushelled face gave him pause.   
   
Turning and moving forward, Bill watched silently until the other man's eye caught his. He tipped the drink in his hand in a silent gesture of greeting. "Joshamee." He stared at the ghost from his past for several long moments before seating himself down opposite the other man.   
   
The man started and stared for an equally long, silent while, confused.   
   
Bill could feel an unwitting grin split his face. "What," he croaked, "ye don't remember me?"  
   
He could see the recognition slowly take hold. "Well, sink me! Bill? Bill Turner?" Gibbs looked him over. "You, er... You look good."   
   
Bill barked out a laugh, "For a dead man ye mean."   
   
Gibbs shrugged. "You said it, not me."   
   
Bill allowed himself to smile and revel in familiarity for a moment, before re-focusing. "You know why I'm here, I presume."   
   
Gibbs took a long pull at his drink. "I can more than guess," he agreed.   
   
Bill glanced around the crowded pub. "Where is he, Gibbs?"   
   
Gibbs shifted nervously in his seat and fiddled with the rim of his tankard. "Well..." said Gibbs uncomfortably. "Last I saw an' 'eard he was heading for Charlie Changs."  
   
Bill blinked in surprise before rubbing a rough hand over his tired face. "An' how long ago was this?"  
   
Gibbs shifted in his seat again. "Going on our second week now."  
   
Bill cursed vehemently and stared at the other man. "And you just left him there?!"  
   
Gibbs straightened and glared right back. "We were given orders not to disturb him. Not for anything."  
   
Bill swore again and frowned thoughtfully at the stained wooden table in silence for a time. "Right. Well, here's your new orders: round up the crew and make ready to set sail."  
   
Gibbs blinked. "Bill... Have ye seen it out there?!"  
   
Bill nodded solemnly. "Aye, I have. Which is why I'm here." He finished his drink in two large gulps before standing. "Make ready the ship, Mr. Gibbs."  
   
For a second, Bill worried that he wouldn't do it, but he should have known better than to question Joshamee Gibbs' loyalty. Gibbs stood and drained his tankard, slamming it with finality on the wooden table. He gavea short sharp nod of affirmation. "Aye."  
   
Relieved, Bill left the _Faithful Bride_ with a purposeful stride and made his way back down the sloping street. Turning near the foreshore, he headed towards the storehouses that clustered the far end of the docks. A few rats scampered out of his way, squeaking angrily and Bill rested a hand on the cutlass strapped to his side. His eyes swept the area steadily and his steps didn't falter. Shapes of men lurked in the small alleys between buildings, lethal and hard to see.  
   
A large dark doorway loomed up ahead, painted a deep lacquered blue. A red Chinese lantern swung on a hook outside the door, casting dancing shadows on the surrounding area.  
   
Bill steeled himself and made his way over quickly. Rapping on the door three times in sharp succession he stood back and waited.  
   
The door opened slowly on creaky hinges to reveal Charlie Chang.  
   
Charlie Chang was a weathered, elderly man, dark greying hair pulled back into a tight plait that ran down his back. His eyes were beetle black and sunken in his face and his teeth - or what remained of them - were yellowed and crooked.  
   
He smiled a ghastly smile and opened the door wider, beckoning Bill inside.  
   
"You come to dream, or to forget?" he asked in stilted English.  
   
Bill stepped inside, frowned and shook his head. "Jack Sparrow. Where is he?"  
   
Chang gave him a narrow-eyed once-over before quirking a long thin eyebrow. "Who?"  
   
Bill huffed and restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Grabbing a pouch from an inner pocket of his coat he brought it out with exaggerated show, rattling it slightly so that the contents clinked musically. He tossed it to the other man.  
   
Chang caught it, a smile forming on his face as he counted the contents. With a bony hand he pointed up a rickety staircase. "Sparrow." With a final crooked grin he disappeared into the smoky depths of a downstairs room.  
   
Bill headed up the creaking staircase carefully. At the top of the stairs was an old door, sitting lopsided on it's hinges, the paint chipping and peeling away in great streaks. Steeling himself, he pushed the thin wood open and stepped inside the room.  
   
Bill coughed and waved a hand in front of his face, eyes stinging, and peered into the gloom. Thick choking tendrils of smoke swam among the tiny attic room's sloping ceiling, curling lazily. A candle was flickering sadly on a spindly-legged table. It rested next to a small, grimy window which stood bare, and of the outside world nothing could be seen.   
   
In the centre of the room was a large red chaise, covered in what once would have been fine embroidered fabric. It was stained now, frayed and worn through in some places. And there laying prone upon it was his quarry.  
   
"Jack."   
   
The other man didn't move. Bill entered the room, leaving the door open to help clear the air. He made his way over to the window and unlatched it. Pounding the sill a few times, he finally managed to crack it open. The putrid smells of Tortuga wafted in through the window in a less-than refreshing breeze.   
   
Turning back around he walked over to the couch and stared down at the figure of his former captain.   
   
Jack was laying on his back, one leg dangling off and one booted foot resting on the couch surface. He was staring unseeing at the ceiling, hair a wild tangled mess about his head. His arms were resting on either side of his body, right hand stretched out towards a small stool. On the stool Bill could see a long, thin pipe, and beside it was a small globule of black.   
   
Bill couldn't help a small snort of amusement as he spotted an ever present bottle of rum, (empty, of course) beneath the table.   
   
"Jack," he called again, leaning over the other man. "Ye hear me?"   
   
The other man's eyes were glassy, but the eyelids flicked slightly, which gave Bill hope.   
   
With a weathered hand, Bill tapped the man's face a few more times, calling his name. He could feel his patience wearing out, and so with a final curse, he slapped the man across the face. Hard.   
   
"JACK!"   
   
The pirate's head lolled to the side, and he blinked with incredible slowness. "Hm?"   
   
Bill huffed and glared at him. "Perfect. Just bloody perfect! How is it that whenever someone needs you you are always incapacitated?!"   
   
 A small smile played on the corner of the man's lips and his eyes slipped closed. "Jus' lucky I guess," he slurred. "Now go 'way."   
   
"Oh no you don't. Wake up!"   
   
Jack laconically blinked his eyes open again, and Bill was gratified to see a bit more awareness returning. "Will?"   
   
Bill glared sternly at the younger man. "Close. It's Bill."   
   
"Bill." Jack peered at him intently, eyes glazed. "Yer dead."   
   
Bill gazed up at the sloped ceiling and prayed to the gods for patience he did not feel. "Yes, yes I am. I've also been aboard the _Flying Dutchman,_ remember that?"   
   
Jack flinched at the name and stirred restlessly. "M'not sure I want to."   
   
"Well, too bad,-" Bill gruffed, hauling the other man up and propping him against the couch's raised end mercilessly. "'Cause you're going to. And then you're going to come with me to the _Pearl_  and set sail."   
   
"Oh," said Jack, smiling at the sudden movement. "The world is spinning."   
   
Bill could feel his hands twitch with the urge to slap the other man again. He tightened them into fists instead, standing and glancing about the room for Jack's effects. Finally spotting them in a dark corner he grabbed them, slapping the hat on the other man's head roughly. "C'mon, we're going."   
   
Jack tilted his head to the side curiously. "An' why should I?" he leaned back against the lounge comfortably. "I'm quite good here."   
   
In hindsight, Bill knew that this was the moment where his patience had reached it's strained end. Infuriated, he grabbed the younger man by his shirt and slammed him hard against the nearest wall, face inches from Jack's own and growling angrily. "God dammit, Jack! You got my son into this mess, and by that bloody rum you hold so holy, you'll get him out again! Do you hear me?!"   
   
Jack blinked at him, and then gazed down at the hands holding him in thoughtful silence. "Hm. The _Pearl,_ ye say?"   
   
Gritting his teeth forcefully, Bill hauled the other man out of the small room and down the rickety stairs.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I've gotta admit I had way too much fun writing this chapter! Hope you guys/gals enjoyed reading it!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack wakes up and takes charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! If you're sticking with this story, thanks so much for your patience! For those who are annoyed with the slow progress, I can only apologise - I'm still writing this story as I'm posting. Next week's chapter may be delayed seeing as it still needs to be finished and then beta'ed. I will try and get chapter's up as quickly as possible but I make no promises about when that'll be. Not only am I trying to write in the little amount of spare time I have atm, but I'm also in the process of trying to get ready to move to another country. So if you're annoyed or curious as to why the going is so slow, that'd be it. We are nearing the climax however. I think we should be done in a few more chapters! :)

After much cajoling, and plain manhandling, he managed to get Jack onto the _Black Pearl_. Gibbs saw them and hurried over, helping him by taking the other man's side as they steered him towards the great cabin.   
   
Bill was glad to see that most of the crew didn't notice their passage, engrossed in their work. Of those who did, they quickly lowered their eyes or pretended not to notice after a stern glare from Bill.   
   
By this point Jack was mostly senseless, eyes locked on some imaginary point, and humming an occasional ditty.   
   
They tossed him none too gently onto his bunk, and Jack gave a soft noise of complaint and confusion. "Go to sleep, Captain." said Gibbs as he removed the man's boots.   
   
Not for the first time Bill thanked the gods for the stable and reliable presence of Joshamee Gibbs.   
   
"I'm surprised you got him this far," said Gibbs, tossing the boots into a far corner of the room.   
   
Bill frowned thoughtfully and idly extracted a braid of hair that Jack was chewing on.  "Hmm, well he's all yours now."  
   
Gibbs looked up from what he was doing. "Yer not stayin'?"   
   
Bill shook his head. "Can't. 'Sides, needed on the _Dutchman_  more than I am here. Ye've got things well in hand, as always, Mister Gibbs."   
   
Gibbs smileed and shook Bill's hand firmly. "Aye, well best o' luck to you then. We'll see ye soon, hopefully!" The man fidgeted for a minute, stuttering on a sentence, before finally looking solemnly at Bill. "I'm sorry about what happened to young Billy. We all are." Gibbs waved a hand to encompass the surrounding cabin and Jack's unconscious form.   
   
Bill nodded his appreciation, throat closed up, and he ruthlessly suppressed the wave of grief. Clearing his throat loudly, he looked again at Gibbs. "He's going to be out for a few days. In the meantime, ye should head nor'east for a while. That's where we were last."   
   
Gibbs just nodded and stared at the wooden bulwark of the  _Pearl_ , where even inside they could hear the steady pounding of waves against her side. "Aye, we'll do that. The sea's mighty rough, though... I had trouble gettin' the crew to fall into line. There's not a sailor in the whole o' Tortuga who ain't keen to get movin' again, but this weather." he looked at Bill, eyes troubled. "'M not sure we'll make it, not without the Captain at the helm."   
   
As if in agreement the ship rolled with a particularly strong set of waves, wood moaning and rigging creaking.   
   
Bill sighed and ran a hand through his hair with nervous tension. "Aye. Well, the _Pearl's_ been through worse afore, so let's just hope she can handle what's to come. Ye'll be close to shore for a while at least. Once yer out on open water though..." Bill shrugged apologetically. "There's naught I can do 'bout that."   
   
They stood in awkward silence, watching the sleeping captain, before Bill shook himself roughly. "Well. I best be off."   
   
Gibbs watches as he crosses the room towards the bulkhead. "Goodbye, Mr. Turner."   
   
Bill turned and took a last look. "Goodbye, Mr. Gibbs"  
   
And then he was gone.   
   
   
~*~*~  
   
Jack came to with a severe start, blinking in confusion. He was on a wooden floor, somewhere. There was a loud moan of wood, and the floor pitched dramatically. Jack scrabbled with one hand to hold onto something and stop himself from rolling away. Deck, he corrected himself. He was on a wooden deck, somewhere. 

Levering himself into a sitting position, he gazed about at the familiar confines of his cabin. He was on the _Pearl_ , then. He blinked, and looked to the right, and where he, presumably, was tossed from.   
   
"Why am I on the _Pearl_?" he asked the room.   
   
His voice was hoarse and scratchy and his mouth tasted like it had been stuffed with something furry which had then died. He grimaced, using the bulkhead of the ship to lever himself up unsteadily. His muscles twinged painfully, and his stomach rolled with nausea. Eyes watering, he wasintent on making his way back towards his bunk when the deck suddenly heaved again, and he was sent crashing into the opposite side of the cabin.   
   
The _Pearl_ gave a mighty groan of wood and listed alarmingly to one side. Jack growled angrily, lurching into the outer cabin. "What the bloody hell are they doing up there?!"   
   
He made it through the cabin with minimal floundering, and tossed open the doors.   
   
Immediately a fierce wind drove rain and saltwater into his face, and he squinted out at the men scurrying about deck.  
   
He grabed the nearest crew member, an Asian man they picked up some months ago, and screamed "What the bloody hell is going on?!"   
   
It was only after the man looked at him in alarm, and then dashed away that Jack remembered the man didn't speak a word of English. He cursed and was about to set off into the tempest when Gibbs half ran, hafl fell down the aftcastle stairs.   
   
"Jack!" He said, grin spread wide. "Your awake!"   
   
"Course I'm bloody awake. What the bloody hell is going on?!" The _Pearl_ rocked heavily, and he could hear the sound of rigging snapping somewhere above. "And what the bloody hell are you doing to my ship?!"   
   
He stormed past the flustered Gibbs, and made his way up the stairs. At the helm he could see Cotton, who had valiantly lashed himself to the wheel and was bearing all his weight to the starboard side.   
   
He strode over and lent his weight, shouting orders at the men below as he did. The _Pearl_ gaveanother groan before turning dutifully, her prow pointing into the oncoming waves.   
   
It was only after he'd helped secure the new position that he realised he wasn't wearing any boots. Or his longcoat. And where the hell was his hat?  
   
"Are ye sure ye should be up,Captain?" Gibbs yelled over the noise.   
   
Jack blinked the water out of his eyes and narrowed his gaze at the other man. "Ye have a lot of explaining to do, Mister Gibbs! Who ordered you to set sail?!"   
   
Gibbs looks shocked for a second before he nervously glanced ~~s~~ at the mute Cotton. "Ye don't remember. Right. Course, ye don't. Um...."   
   
"I'm waiting, Mister Gibbs."   
   
Gibbs swallowed. "Bill Turner."   
   
Jack stared dumbly at the other man, and probably would have continued to do so for a while if the deck hadn't given another violent tilt. He grabbed a rail and stared, "Bill Turner?"   
   
"Aye, Cap'n. He came and found us in Tortuga. Demanded I ready the crew, and then went and fetched you from Charlie Changs."   
   
Jack winceed, memories flooding back with painful clarity. "Oh."   
   
"He said he needed our help, and to sail for the _Dutchman_ immediately."   
   
Jack flinched and looks at Gibbs in horror. "Ooooh no. No, bad bloody idea. No. Turn her around, Mister Cotton! Take her back to Tortuga!"   
   
"We're four days out Cap'n!"   
   
Jack stareed at the other man. "I've been asleep for four days?"   
   
"Aye, Cap'n."   
   
Jack could feel the nausea from before return with an almighty vengeance.   
   
"Bill said you owed it to him and Will both. That Will's not in a good way, an' he's got Calypso's favour."   
   
Jack glared and waved his hand at the towering waves. "Well, obviously!"   
   
Gibbs shook his head and followed as Jack made his way back towards the cabin. "It's worse than that. The _Dutchman's_  been firing on any ship that crosses her path! Bill's worried we're gonna have a return to the... well, the situation from afore!"   
   
"Not much incentive for us to go out and find the _Dutchman_ , then is there?"   
   
They make their way inside out of the wind, and the sudden silence is heavy and uncomfortable. Jack plodded over to the desk, careless of the puddles created in his wake. He sat in the large chair behind the desk and opened one of the drawers, grabbing a silver flask from it ~~'~~ s depths. He popped the lid and went to take a drink, before shaking the empty cannister. "Damn."  
   
Gibbs stood uncomfortably before the desk, watching him silently. The sounds of voices calling and feet running to and fro on the deck fillled the space. "Your orders, Cap'n."   
   
Jack gave a world-weary sigh, and shifted a piece of parchment aside on the desk. Beneath it was a colourful circular object. He sat and studied ~~s~~ it ~~'~~ s detailed etching on the rolling surface of the desk.   
   
"Any word on Alvarez's position?"   
   
Gibbs shook his head apologetically. "None, sir."   
   
Jack's lips quirked at the honorific. "Steady on, Mister Gibbs, we're not in the navy anymore."   
   
"Aye, Cap'n. Sorry, Cap'n."   
   
The silence continued it ~~'~~ s ponderous weight, as Jack idly twirled one of the rings of the map around. He stopped and pressed a hand over the coloured marking of an ornate silver cup.  
   
"Tell Cotton to turn her north west."  
   
"Aye, aye, Captain."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LoL! I seem to have unwittingly paired up Bill and Gibbs. It wasn't my intention! My brain is just porny that way!
> 
> As always any sort of feedback is gratefully appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and constructive criticism are food for the muse!


End file.
